#i have seen so many vaginas today

[mushroomgothic]

is anyone else no longer getting actual posts from tags you follow and instead getting 100% pornbots with actual naked people??

[peachiejeongin]

Jealousy | Lee Know

Synopsis: You and Lee Know have been best friends for as long as time can tell; however, a third party has ignited an unfamiliar negativity in him, and he is finally ready to handle it himself.

Pairing: jealous! dom!LK x fem!reader (Reader has breasts and a vagina, and uses she/her pronouns !)

Genre: Smut, a bit of Angst, Fluff towards the ending

Warnings: Sexually Explicit Content (18+), marking, breast-play (sort of), oral (f!receiving), unprotected sex (please use protection my loves!), pet names (sweetheart, good girl, baby, etc.), Minho is extremely jealous and possessive, Minho quite literally answers the phone during sex [As always, please inform me if I missed anything!]

Word Count: 9k

Notice: Hello, my darlings! I have missed you all dearly! I recently acquired a bit of inspiration to get back into writing, so enjoy a Lee Know smut drabble I wrote a while back :)

Smut under the cut!

"Hey, I feel like we're getting off topic again," Minho bluntly states, cutting you off in the middle of your chatter. You glanced at him, your mouth slightly agape from the abrupt interruption. "You do remember that hanging out today was your idea, right?"

Of course, you remembered it was your idea; after all, you had made the plans last minute, just that morning. You invited Minho over for a movie and a catch-up night, since you hadn't seen him in a few days. You expected a normal evening with him; however, hanging out felt strange. In fact, it had felt unusual ever since a certain third party had entered the picture.

You had recently started talking to another guy and had unintentionally began spending more time with him than with Lee Know. As of late, though, this new guy seemed to be distancing himself from you; he would often go days, or even up to a week, without speaking to you. Then, he would reappear in your life as if nothing had happened, claiming to have been, "busy."

Your best friend saw right through the guy's facade; he knew the guy was only seeking attention from you, and he was not tolerating it. Despite Minho's clear disapproval, it seemed as if the guy consumed much of your conversations lately; in fact, Minho interjected as you were once again delving into another tangent about the guy's behavior. It had become a predictable cycle: the guy would reappear after ghosting, make plans, and vanish again. Frankly, Lee Know was growing tired of it.

"Yeah, I know hanging out was my idea. Why wouldn't I remember that?" you questioned, a confused expression present amongst your features.

Minho scoffed. "Because it's not feeling like it," he said. You raised one eyebrow, urging him to explain further. "I understand you want advice and my personal input on what's going on with this potential guy, and I can help you out with whatever as your friend..." He paused briefly, letting out a deep sigh as he continued, "I'm trying really hard not to be a jerk about this, but I really thought today wasn't going to revolve around this again."

"Min, I get where you're coming from, but I feel like you're making it seem like I've been talking about this guy non-stop, which I haven't." Upon your response, Minho could not stop himself from narrowing his eyes and chuckling coldly.

"Literally, since I brought you that water, you have not stopped talking about him."

"Yes, I have! I've talked about so many other things, and-"

"When?" he promptly cuts you off again, his voice raising slightly. "I mean, seriously? When I first came over, you were all like, 'Hey, I need your opinion. Can you look at this for a sec?'" Lee Know mirrored your prior actions by shoving his phone in your face.

What had you shoved in Lee Know's face exactly? A message from the guy stating, "Sorry, I've been busy." The date on the message read 8:41P.M., not even thirty minutes ago. The last message you had sent, on the contrary, read Monday, November 18th.

Over a week ago.

You wanted Minho's honest opinion; after all, he was your only friend that would give you the truth instead of what you wanted to hear. Thus, the truth he gave: "How many times do I have to tell you this guy is not worth it?"

And so, you find yourself connecting the dots on previous events.

"I may have asked for your opinion, but I didn't shove my phone in your face," you argue, pushing his phone away by instinct. You were becoming increasingly annoyed at his behavior.

"Yeah, you did," he retaliated, retracting his phone. "You shoved your phone in my face just like that." You opened your mouth to counter; however, no sound came out. All thoughts on how to go against him had completely dissipated from your mind. You closed your agape jaw in defeat and stared grimly at the floor. Lee Know rolled his eyes harshly.

"I told you last time, and I'll tell you again, it means he's not worth your time. This guy is clearly only trying to hit you up when it's convenient for him, and you know that, too."

Minho's grievances mirrored but also contrasted your own. Of course, he was agitated with your behavior, but the hinderance came from a divergent perspective; he knew you were smarter than this, you had to be. There was absolutely no way you could not see the clear convenience you were to this guy. Minho could not tell if you were intently playing dumb in order to lessen the blame or if you were simply blind sighted by this guy.

Either way, he was fed up.

You could not wrap your head around the guy's actions, however. Just the other night, the two of you had went on a date that went pleasantly well. How was he able to change up so quickly?

You made mention of your thoughts aloud: "But...the last date we went on..."

"What about it?" Minho sat up and threw his hands sharply to his sides in a vexed manner. He leaned back on his palms, his eyebrows furrowed as he awaited your response.

"It just...It went really well is all..." You shrugged and folded your arms over your torso. You tapped your foot against the hardwood floor as you apprehensively glanced up at Minho. He had taken off his glasses and was rubbing his temples.

He put his glasses back on, took a deep inhale, and cupped his hands in your direction.

"So what if the date went really well, Y/N? That doesn't excuse what he's been doing. He's basically ghosted you for an entire week, and it's been, what? Three times now?" Minho's acute words stung. You knew he was right, but it was still taking you time you wrap your head around one aspect:

Why?

"I get that things aren't official yet," he continued, snapping you out of your thoughts, "but you have to see that this guy is-"

"I just don't understand why, Min," you interrupted him this time. "What even is going to happen after this?" He narrowed his eyes and inhaled sharply.

"Look, i really don't want to be your counselor again," Lee Know shook his head while chuckling out of aggravation. "But, obviously, he's gonna try to make up every excuse and try to act sweet when he finally responds."

"What if he really has been busy, though?" you desperately reply, attempting to convince yourself more than anything. Minho did not shoot a glance at you this time, the annoyance clear on his sunk in expression.

"Look," he stated directly in attempts to get you to listen. "It might be more acceptable if you two were going into this potential relationship expecting it to be a casual kind of thing, y'know, with no strings attached. But, that's not what you've been telling me, and he knows exactly what this is supposed to be. He's the one that's not respecting your time, or my time for that matter because I constantly have to listen to what a piece this guy sounds like."

"He...He hasn't been acting like there's no strings attached! Just the other day, he-" You huffed in efforts to tell Minho about how the guy denied another girl's number at the arcade on the last date, even going so far as to call you "his girl." Once again, however, Minho interjected.

"You are really starting to annoy me." his words cut; they were honest, yet brutal. "There is no way you are this stupid, y/n. Come on: not responding for weeks at a time? Love bombing when he does respond? That's acting like no strings attached." You considered Lee Know's words for a brief moment. Upon this, you finally had a realization:

"Maybe...Maybe he's not worth it anymore."

"That's what I've been trying to tell you," Minho responded with a chuckle mixed of disbelief and humor. "Get rid of him; you would be doing us both a favor that way."

You nodded in sorrow, staring down at your phone. Despite the comment you had made, part of you was still hoping you would look at your lock screen and there would be a text message from him.

"So, you're not going to talk to him anymore. Deal?" Minho ponders, snapping you out of your train of thought.

"No. No, I'm not going to talk to him anymore." You set your phone down on your lap, your foot still tapping nervously.

"So, we're done with this?" he follows up with a second question.

"I don't know, Min," you admit, causing Minho to intake a rough breath. "I mean, I still can't comprehend it. He's so sweet and caring, and he's really good in-"

"No, I don't wanna hear about it, y/n!" Minho finally snaps, managing to keep his voice stern but calm.

"What? Why? I thought you were supposed to be here for me?" you ask, once again hurt by his words.

"I am here for you, but I don't like hearing about these guys you're seeing," Minho growled, his voice tinged with frustration. "I just really do not need to know about all of that, okay? Just put it down, and let's not talk about this anymore."

"Okay, okay. Fine. What do you wanna talk about?" You finally look up at Minho, your eyes sunk in and arms crossed with defeat.

"Well, I was thinking," he began, his voice a lot more gentle, "that we could talk about, and this is just a wild idea, but something related to us instead?" He accentuated his words with a few lighthearted chuckles.

"Hm, yeah. Did you have something specific in mind?" you inquired, your demeanor beginning to soften but your eyes still narrowed in slight frustration.

"I did have something. I actually already had this in mind before you got me offtopic earlier," he teased briefly, "but I was thinking since we both have some time off next week, we should go out and eat somewhere!" Minho's eyes seemed to beaming as bright as his smile; he took pride in the fact that he was able to deter your attention back to him, back to where it was supposed to be, he thought. He missed you dreadfully, and the suggestion of going out to dinner had been plaguing his mind since he walked through your front door.

"Oh yeah?" you asked rhetorically. "What place did you have in mind?" You returned his grin with a soft, half smile of your own. You could not deny you had missed spending time with him has well; however, the thoughts of your admirer still clouded your better judgement. Unintentionally, you began to stare off into space as Lee Know began his reply.

"There's been this one new place that I've been wanting to try. I think it would be nice," Lee Know explained as he began to describe the new traditional restaurant that had just opened up not even a couple of blocks away from your apartment. Lee Know ended his description with a cheeky, "Plus, I feel like you kind of owe me one anyways." This statement snapped you out of your endless distraction. You turned your head in his direction quickly, your eyebrows furrowed and a slight frown present on your face, replacing the half-smile that was just present.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" you interrogated, your tone coming off more accusatory than attended. Minho raised a teasing eyebrow to accompany his ever-present smile, which now had morphed into more of a smirk; he was slightly taken aback by your sudden yet slight outburst.

"You know exactly what that's supposed to mean," he responded unequivocally, nodding his head with each accentuation of the sentence. "I'm just saying that you've been so busy with your new guy that we haven't had a chance to hang out lately. Remember last week? When you flaked on me...twice?" Minho's smile had slightly faded, his demeanor becoming solumn in contrast to the previous cheeky behavior.

You did remember essentially leaving Minho in the dust last week, although you did not want to. You and Minho had planned a night together, similar to the one you were having at this moment; however, on the night of the planned venture, the new guy had messaged you out of the blue and asked if you wanted to grab dinner with him that night. All reason had fled from your mind at that moment as you texted back, 'Yes!' without thinking twice about your plans for the night. It was not until Minho had began to blow up your cellphone with messages such as, 'Where are you?' 'y/n, i'm at your apartment,' and 'hello? what the hell?!' when you remembered. You quickly replied, explaining what had happened and that you would be home soon in a desperate attempt to please both parties, yet your response was met with, 'Don't bother. I'm going home.'

With this failed endeavor, you and Minho had attempted to reschedule your arrangements for the next night; thankfully, Minho had the whole week off from schedules, and it was your fall break from classes. You had made a slight adjustment to visit the cinema rather than a move night at your apartment. Yet, this attempt succeeded just as much as the first did, and it went about the same way; it was as if the guy had some sort of radar detecting the days you and Minho had planned to hang out so he could steal you away.

As you dreadfully remembered the events of the prior week, you scoffed and refused to give up your stern standpoint on the matter.

"You sound jealous, y'know that?" was the response your anger-stricken brain formulated. You had stated it without thinking, honestly, and you instantly regretted it once Minho leaned back on the couch, his arms crossing and his mouth slightly agape in pure vexation.

"I sound what?" he inquired stiffly, his dark brown eyes staring daggers into your gaze. "Jealous?" he repeated the word as if he could not believe the statement, which to some degree he could not. He followed up the repitition with a couple of brutal snickers as he shook his head in disbelief. His stare had now found its way boring holes into the wall beside him. "Very funny. I'm not jealous," he claimed as if he was trying to convince himself of the matter rather than you. He shifted his gaze towards the floor as he continued, "I just think you should follow through when we make plans."

"You know we can always reschedule," you responded somberly as you glanced out of the window to your right in order to avoid eye contact with Minho.

"Yeah, you can reschedule, but you ended up cancelling that too," Minho fixed his eyes upon you, specifically how you were still refusing to look at him. You knew the truth to his words, which only made the guilt to felt ten times worse; still, you refused to let your guard down, responding to his truth with a skeptical head shake. You rolled your eyes as you did so, and you shifted your gaze to side eye the male.

"Do you not hear yourself? You are jealous, otherwise you wouldn't be speaking like this, or bringing up last week!" There was no denying your rage at this moment; you were tired of Minho bringing up your faults, especially when it was in relation to this guy. Minho's tongue prodded at his cheek and his vacant expression darkened. There was a brief silence as Minho contemplated what to say in order to get his point across and not sound like a total jerk.

"Okay," he started, "now, you're just imagining things. I'm not jealous." You chuckled slightly, turning your gaze back to focus on the rain pittering against the windows outside.

"Sure," you replied quite coldly with a strained, sarcastic smirk plastered upon your face. Minho frustratedly breathed in and took a slight glance towards the ceiling.

"Fine," he threw his hands up slightly, "y'know what? Forget it. Let's just drop this." He attempted to change the topic of conversation, both because he was tired of talking about his feelings, but also because there was a minuscule aspect of him that knew you were correct. "But, if you happen have time to allocate next week, is that a yes or a no on the restaurant thing?"

Your eyebrows furrowed in perplexity. Minho was JUST on your case, and now he is bringing the subject of the restaurant.

He is so jealous, you thought.

That was not what came out of your mouth, however. Instead, you sighed as a way to release the lingering tidbits of bottled-up anger you felt and responded with a simple question: "What did you say the name of the place was again?" Minho paused for a moment in an attempt to remember the answer to your question.

"Uh, I don't remember the exact name, but it opened up right next to the theatre," Minho did his best to recollect the traditional restaurant, but could only remember its location.

"Is it that one new silverish building with all of the fairy lights hanged near the entrance?" you inquired genuinely, your body beginning to relax from the intensity of aforementioned events. Minho nodded slightly, finally feeling a sense of relief that you were endulging in a conversation unrelated to the guy.

"Yeah, yeah, that building. The name was, uh," Minho attempted to recall the name of the restaurant once again, and partially succeeded, "Great...something." You laughed at his inable memory, causing him to eye you up and down in a playful manner. "Listen, I had the name in my head for the entire day!"

"Likely story! Where'd it go then?" you asked him cheekily, leaning in a bit closer to him on the couch as if to accentuate your question. Lee Know moved away from you in sarcastic disgust as he returned your giggles.

"I don't know! For some reason, it's just on the tip of my tongue right now," Minho returned to his normal sitting position as he racked his brain for the name of the restaurant.

"Is it...is it 'Great Bake?'" you asked as you recalled seeing a grey building that matched the description of the restaurant. Minho looked at you, confusion etched all over his face.

"No, that's a cookie shop!" Minho chortled at your futile attempt at recollecting. "Plus, that place has been there for years now. But I mean, we can go there if you want." You tilted your head at the suggestion before slowly shaking it.

"No thanks. I'd rather go for a meal than for cookies. They make my stomach ache," you rubbed your stomach as you stated the last part in order to adorn your words with comicality.

"Are you sure?" Minho asked you genuinely. "Because I don't mind going for desert after. Or we could go for Boba afterwards if you prefer."

"Nah," you politely declined his offers. "I think the meal will be enough for me."

"You sure?" Minho inquired once more. "It can be my treat!"

"You don't have a reason to treat me," you retaliated in a half-serious half-silly demeanor. Lee Know shook his head in response.

"There doesn't have to be a reason."

"You're just never this considerate is all." Another reply you would slightly regret the moment is escaped your lips. Minho threw his head back, his ego slightly hurt at your statement.

"I am always considerate, hello?" he countered sounding a tad vexated. "What kind of image do you have of me?"

"Well, if you're always considerate, is dinner going to be on you too?" you inquired, crossing your arms brazenly as you awaited an answer.

"You..." Minho's voice quieted as he let out a string of adorning giggles. "No, relax. I am only covering the dessert portion." You scoffed, this one coming out in an exuberant manner in contrast to the previous ones out of annoyance.

"So, I'll pay for dinner in order to make it up to you, I guess, and you'll pay for dessert?" You had decided to concede to Minho's proposition about the cookies and boba. He beamed brightly at your own proposal.

"Okay, let's do that then!" his words were laced with a joyous hint, which made your heart smile. You had a newfound exhileration for the endeavor; as such, you asked Minho if he was excited in order to ensure that the feeling was reciprocated.

"I am, yeah! I am excited for the food!" Minho poked fun towards you, causing you to lightly smack the back of his head. "I'm just kidding, y/n. Of course I am excited for the food, but also because you and I, y'know...I said it earlier, but it really has been a while since we've been able to catch up. Like, not just surface level stuff in our lives, and I've really missed-"

Minho's endearing ramble was interrupted by a buzz of your cellphone; the guy's name appeared on your phone screen in the form of an iMessage. A second buzz quickly followed, and you almost lept at the coffee table in attempts to retrieve your phone. You came to a stop just as your hand grasped the device, and you slowly looked up from the table, making dejected eye contact with Minho. The grin on his face swifty disappeared, and he sighed as he looked down at the ground one more.

"I'm sorry, Min. Do you...mind if I answer this real quick?" You figured it was at least alright to ask, but you took note of how upset he appeared as the inquiry left your mouth.

"Uh, yeah, go ahead. Can't really ignore that, right?" Minho never looked up from the ground as he spoke, and the last fragment of his sentence came out in a snarky bearing.

"I mean I can if, if you want me to," you stuttered, and Minho just shook his head in disapproval.

"I know if you try not to check your phone, you're just going to get distracted from the conversation," Minho paused, taking into consideration how you were hyper-focused on your phone, your fingers were already moving at the speed of light to type out a reply to the guy. "And it looks like you're already doing that anyways." You glanced up from your phone, your face contorted into a confused expression with your eyebrows furrowed and lips pursed together.

"Why are you making that face at me?" Minho catechized your expression as if it was the most unnecessary item in the world. "It's him again, I know it is. I told you not to bother with him anymore, so why are you even thinking about responding?" You were silent, a culpable feeling engulfing your body.

"He. He apologized, and he said-"

"It doesn't matter what he's saying!" Minho snapped outrageously, instantly standing and unintentionally towering over you. "Are you serious right now? We just talked about this!" His fists were clenched by his side, and his eyes were narrowed in exasperation. Before he could let his emotions take over, he took a couple of steps away from you and removed his glasses one more, rubbing at the inner corners of his eyes to seemingly rid them of the stress he was feeling. "Y'know, this is really starting to piss me off."

"Why? Why does it matter so much to you?" you queried, careful not to let the lump building up in your throat waiver your voice. Minho looked at you as if you had lost your sanity.

"Because I thought we were done with this, y/n."

"It's none of your business, Minho!" You had stood up now as well in order to mirror the actions of your friend. He took a step closer to you, his expression vexing further if that was fathomable.

"No, it wasn't my business initially, but you kind of went and made it my business with how often you rubbed this in my face. What, you expect me not to care about what happens to you?" You jeered at Minho's question, slapping a hand against your thigh in frustration.

"Can you just admit you don't like the fact I'm hanging out with a guy who isn't you? That's what the whole problem is here! Like I said: you're jealous, Minho." You crossed your arms as you stared up at the taller boy, who rolled his eyes in the middle of your reply.

"Here you go again with the jealousy thing," Minho huffed. "Look, I'm really annoyed already, so can you stop messing around, please?"

"I'm not messing around," you defended your stance. "You're only worried about me because another guy is in the picture."

"I am worried about you as a friend, y/n, and I'm saying from a platonic standpoint that he is not worth it," Minho retaliated, the annoyance becoming more prominent in his voice with every word he spoke.

"Meaning what exactly?" you prodded further. At this point, Minho was not sure if you were simply asking questions because of sheer confusion or to get on his nerves. It was a mix of both in reality; you could not deny the immense joy you felt from pushing Minho to his limits, yet you also could not fathom why he was so passionate about his stance on this guy.

"Meaning that I don't want you to see him anymore." Minho thought the response sounded better in his head. You widened your eyes once you heard it.

"Okay, so you're jealous and possessive." You moved your finger as you spoke as if you were making some sort of air-bullet list. Minho's mouth gaped slightly open and he sneered.

"Now I sound possessive? I'm really not, but sure, if you'd like to add that into your mix of ideas about me, too." Minho attempted to walk away from the conversation, but you grabbed his shirt sleeve to make him stay put.

"What the hell do you mean by that?" you asked for the nth time that night. Minho looked down at your hand's grasp on his shirt sleeve, then back up at you before scoffing once again, a smug smirk playing at his lips.

"You have not seen me being possessive at all, sweetheart," he remarked with a boldness present in his voice. "I don't want to get into this right now."

"And why is that?" The pure curiosity within you had vanished; now, the questions were purely to push Minho's buttons. You had already gotten him so far towards the edge, so what harm would an additional shove do?

"Because if I were being possessive, I would say, 'You're not going out with him again. I'm not letting him have you.' That is what I would want to say," Minho's sultry gaze bore into your own, and you felt your knees tremble slightly and your heart quicken its pace. You did not understand why you had began to feel this way, but it was exciting.

And you wanted more.

"Are you still insisting on this as a friend, Min?" As you uttered those words, you made an essentially bold move; you moved your hand from his shirt sleeve to his palm, nearly intertwining his hand with yours. The mere movement made Minho's breath hitch.

"Well, I, uh," Minho took a deep breath before continuing. "How much are you going to push me? If you asked me like that then you already have an idea, don't you?" He instinctly moved his thumb over your knuckles as he began his honest vouch. "You're right. I have been feeling jealous for a while now. I don't know when it started, but I am. Having to think about you and this guy going out has obviously only made it worse." Your gaze softened as you squeezed his hand.

"Why didn't you tell me, Min?"

"Because I didn't think I would care this much, so how was I supposed to tell you?" Minho genuinely asked this question, but you did not respond.

"So, is that all?" Minho scoffed at your returned question.

"Excuse me? Of course it's not," he stated like it was the most obvious answer in the world. "Do you really want to know what else I've been keeping to myself?" Before you realized what you were doing, your body took control over your mind, allowing your head to nod in agreement rapidly, earning a, "Are you sure about that?" from Minho.

"Are they," you began, feeling a slight tremble in your voice so you paused for a moment. "Are they about me?"

"Mhm. They're related to you. The things that I've wanted to do, thought about doing. It's more than I'm willing to say on its own," he responded casually, the chillness yet unintentionally seductive manner causing you to instinctively cross your legs and slightly rub them together.

"Don't say it then," you replied near instantly, an anxious hitch present in your voice. "Show me." Minho quirked an eyebrow, repeating your words to make sure he understood you correctly. He sighed deeply, almost longingly.

"If you insist, then fine. C'mere," he planted a firm hand on your upper back and pulled you impossibly close towards him. Before you could question his actions, his lips were on yours, kissing you like he had no time left in the world. You were shocked at first, but you quickly melted into the kiss, a few whimpers escaping from your mouth as the two of you embraced. After about thirty seconds, Minho pulled away, smiling at how swollen your lips appeared after such a short period of time.

"I like you," he stumbled over his words as he spoke. "More than I was ever planning to or ever supposed to." He accompanied his confession with a gentle caress of your cheek, a lazy grin accompanying his features. "Seeing you talk about that guy just made me realize how much it bothered me, and," he took a short stop, the light in his eyes morphing into an expression of lust, "if I could have my way with you...if I could do anything that I wanted, then I would keep you all to myself." The hand he had placed on your cheek shifted downward until it found purchase on your waist. Minho's words and subsequent actions had you feeling hot. Everywhere.

"Minho, I never expected you to be this way," you chuckled both out of astonishment and nervousness towards Lee Know's possessiveness.

"Yeah, I don't think you've ever seen how greedy of a person I can be," he responded with an anxious chortle of his own. "I tried to maintain being friends, and obviously I couldn't act like that, could I?" You shook your head, agreeing with his statement.

"Well, maybe I like the way you're acting right now," your hands placing themselves against his chest. You stood on your tiptoes to whisper in his ear, "Maybe I want to see that side of you." The reaction Minho felt from your words went straight down.

"Why?" he whispered in return, his own voice sounding like a whine rather than an octave.

"Because...there is a slight chance I feel the same way you do, and I am curious as to how far this side of you extends." Your hands had began to slide up and down Minho's chest, allowing him to release a soft groan.

"Alright then," he replied as both hands now softly grasped your waist. "If you were mine, then I would definitely be a lot closer than this." Once Minho stated this, he gently maneuvered the both of you back over the couch, softly laying you down and hovering over top of you. The heat within your body was growing, and your heart was pumping with adrenaline at the sight of your best friend on top of you.

You could not believe that this was reality.

"Probably this close would be more accurate," he added on with a cheeky smirk, although his heavy breaths contrasted the slyness of his attitude. He had one hand on your lower back and the other softly brushing over your left cheek. "I wouldn't be able to help myself from here though," he leaned down to the crook of your neck, just to where his lips were ghosting the lobe of your ear. "I would make sure everyone knows you're mine," he alluringly whispered as he moved your hair away from the skin of your neck. "Especially here to start," he murmured before diving down to kiss the exposed area. "The things you do to me," he muttered as he kissed, licked, and sucked love marks into your neck. You did your best to keep quiet; however, no matter your best efforts, a string of hearty whines fell from your lips with every sensual movement Lee Know performed.

It felt like Heaven on Earth.

Minho was setting a rhythm to his actions when he was crudely interrupted by yet another buzz from your cellphone. You instinctually moved to grab it, only to be met with Lee Know sighing in annoyance. He swiftly grasped your arm and pinned it down to your side.

"Stop," he commanded in a frustrated yet enduring tone. "Don't answer it. Look at me." He took his free hand and tilted your chin upwards, forcing you to make eye contact with him. He delved down once more, this time finding your lips rather than your neck. This time, he slipped his tongue past your lips and yours impulsively fought back for dominance, allowing you both to explore one another's mouths. One of your hands found residence in his soft brown locks of hair, tugging on them lightly and eliciting a few moans from his ends.

Yet, all good things must come to an end, it seems.

Another buzz came from your phone, causing both you and Minho to let out groans of irritation.

"Give me that," Minho demanded, outstretching his arm for you to hand your phone to him. You automatically did as he asked and placed your phone in his grasp, to which he put it on the head of the couch behind him, making it to where you could not reach it.

"You're done with him."

With that, Minho went back to kissing you as if his life depended on it, taking note of the equal fervor your kisses contained. Hands were roaming everywhere, lips were encapsulated with one another's, blood flow was pumping to the maximum. It felt perfect. Minho pulled away to catch a breath of air, slightly chuckling against your lips at your flushed state. You had not even been making out for five minutes, and you already appeared disheveled with your bangs sticking to your forehead and your eyes blown with a glint of need.

"You really wanted this, too, didn't you?" Minho quieried, concentrating on keeping his gaze focused on yours. You let out a quiet 'mhm' in response, causing Minho's brazen smirk to reappear. "Were you trying to get a reaction out of me? Just so I would take it this far?" Minho moved your sweaty strands of hair out of your face as he anticipated a response.

"I wasn't trying to at first, I promise," you riposted sounding entirely breathless, partially because you were. "But it just got so fun seeing you all worked up over me." This caused the both of you to giggle; although, the humor was swiftly overtaken by hunger as Minho scanned your body up and down.

"How about I get back to making sure everyone knows you aren't available, hm?" He did not alott time for a response before beginning to kiss your neck once again. "Fuck, you have such a pretty neck," he groaned as he began to resume his prior actions of sucking, biting, and kissing every exposed spot he could access. He continued his endeavors for a long time, only pausing when your moans became as high pitched as a shriek. He pulled away briefly, analyzing the spots in which he had just finished orally assaulting.

"What? Are you sensitive here?" he inquired, gently rubbing his thumb over the spot for emphasis.

"Y-yes, Min, oh my God," you moaned out, desperate to have him reattach his lips to your skin. As if he could read your mind, he did just what you desired, focusing intently on your sensitive spots and relishing in the strangled moans you released as he did so.

You had almost completely lost yourself in the moment until yet another buzz came from your cellphone. Minho released an agitated noise before pulling away from the love-mark he had just embellished upon your neck.

"What the fuck does this guy want?" He read over the text message you were sent, scoffing in response. "A little too late to be texting this now," he remarked and set your phone back on the upper couch cushion.

"What did he say, Min?" Minho leaned back down seemingly even closer than he was before and pressed a short kiss to your temple.

"Don't worry about it, Sweetheart," Minho answered. "You're not seeing him again, and even if he does run into you, I think he'll get the message when he sees these marks all over your neck." Minho accompanied his words by glancing down at your neck; where there was once a smooth skin tone now housed marks of red, purple, and pink, almost resembling some form of a darkened sunset.

"They're so pretty," he whispered as he ran his fingers gently over the blemished marks. "I like seeing proof of my work on you. I want to mark you all over your body," he confessed, instead opting to mark your lips with a kiss in that moment.

"Lift up your arms for me," Minho babbled against your lips. "These clothes are getting in the way." You did just as you were commanded and raised your arms above your head. Minho made quick work of the baby blue crop top you had chosen to wear that day, pulling it over your head and leaving you topless with the exception of your bra.

"C'mon, get it all off for me," he directed you in regards to your bra. You reached your hands behind your back, attempting to undo the impossible clasp of the material. Minho offered to aid your struggle; his larger hands quickly replaced yours, and he was able to undo your bra in one swift motion. He instantaneously groaned at the sight of you, topless, and made specifically for him. He had imagined this scenario over the span of countless, lonely nights; his imagination had underestimated the mere sight of you because here you lay, even more perfect than he could have ever pictured.

"Can I touch you, baby?" he asked you, his words sounding desperate and sensual.

"Please do," you squeaked out, grabbing one of his hands and guiding them to your left breast. Minho took control from there, fondling the one breast as his mouth went to appease the other. The pleasure that erupted in your body was indescribable by words, only becoming conveyed by the loud moans that bounced off of the living room walls; every flick of Minho's tongue over your right nipple, every brush of his thumb over the left, and every sensation you felt on your chest made you rub your thighs together, begging for some sort of sweet relief. Minho picked up on your needy movements; therefore, he released your breasts from his suction and gently placed your hands on them instead.

"Keep playing with your tits for me," he instructed, "while I help you out down here, yeah?" You nodded desperately, feeling slightly embarassed from what he was asking you to do, but you obliged nevertheless, attempting to mirror his movements from before.

Minho, on the other hand, was slowly making his way down to your waistline, kissing every surface of your body he could while doing so. He made it to the band of your light grey sweatpants, and he hooked his thumb under the hem of both them and your underwear, managing to pull both articles down simultaneously and discarding them somewhere on the living room floor.

"Fuck," was all he could manage to spew out as he took you in. Your physical beauty, your scent, the slick already coating you, every aspect of your core was absolutely intriguing to him; it only made his ferality grow.

"I want to taste you," he confessed, not daring to make any movements upon you until he had your full consent. "Can I?"

"Please!" you nearly screamed, praying desparately for him to have his way with you. With your approval, Minho wasted no time in pleasing you. He started with slow kitty licks to your clitoris, eventually switching to alternations between licking and sucking on the sensitive bud, allowing his tongue to drag itself a bit lower down your folds each time. You let out an agonizing sigh of relief, which made its way past your lips in the form of a moan.

"Oh my God, Minho," you whimpered. "Just like that, please!" You continued to beg and plead and whimper and whine the whole way through Minho's work upon you.

"Fuck, y/n, you taste so good," he vibrated against your core, causing shock waves to coarse throughout your lower half. As your moans began to pick up in pace and pitch, as did Minho's movements in speed. He sucked, licked, and hummed against you at a moderate rhythm, giving rise to your back arching and your hips bucking. You felt a knot began to tighten in your stomach just as Minho pulled away, removing his cool, metal rings from his right hand. He tenderly took hold of your dominant hand and placed it where his mouth just was.

"I want you to play with your clit while I finger you," he told you bluntly, causing your cheeks to flush slightly. He took notice of your unease and so added on, "Can you do that for me?" as a way to both ask for your consent and make sure you were in a stable mindset to do so.

"Yes," you hoarsely stammered, "I can." To prove it, you leisurely began to rub your clit in small circles, moaning at the return of pleasureful contact. Minho smirked at your actions.

"Good girl," he praised as he slowly inserted his middle finger inside of you, pumping the singular digit slowly in and out of your vagina, curling it in order to brush against that sweet spot inside of you. Your maneuvers on yourself began to falter slightly as he inserted his ring finger as well, quickening his pace as he did so. You made an attempt to stifle your wanton, continuous moans; after all, you hated being too loud, always fearing someone would walk in and catch you in the act. Yet, Minho was not standing for this.

"No no," he stated while making eye contact with you, "let me hear you, baby. Be loud for me. Moan for me" Just like that, any hesitation within your body vanished, and you let every noise held within your vocal chords escape. Moans, groans, whimpers, whines, and everything in between filled the thin walls of your apartment.

"Attagirl." Minho took your noises as encouragement and began pumping his fingers in and out of you faster, still managing to curl them at the opportune moments. You began to rub your clit in tempo-esque sync with Minho's fingers, both motions feeling inhumanely swift at this point.

"Min, I'm getting c-close," you mumbled out, feeling the knot in your stomach tighten further and your brain only focusing on your release.

"Yeah, baby?" he cooed as his fingers rapidly brushed against your G-Spot. "Cum for me then, baby. I want you to cum all over my fingers. Can you do that for me?" He never broke eye contact with you as he asked this, not once.

"I, I can try," you replied, attempting to laugh the nervousness off, but it instead came out gargled.

"Hm, good girls do what they're told. You wanna be a good girl for me, right?" Minho inquired, moving his fingers back down to a moderate pace.

"Yes, yes, yes, I do!" you stumbled over your repetition. "'M your good girl." Minho chuckled at your adorable, mind-numb antics.

"Then cum all over for me," he repeated, working his fingers back up to the swift pace they had stalled from. "You can do it, I know you can, baby." The combined pleasure of Minho's fingers gracing your G-Spot and your fingers massaging your clit all became too overwhelming at once. You felt yourself coming undone, and as such, your hips began to stutter and your thighs began to shake as you came down from your high. Your hands flew to grasp at the slick leather of the couch as Minho's fingers helped you ride out your high.

"Good girl," Minho eulogized as he removed both digits from your entrance and inserted them into his mouth, licking them clean of your arousal. He climbed back over top of you and planted a kiss of adoration on your forehead.

"You did so well for me, pretty girl," he ran a hand through your hair as he smiled earnestly at you. Your brain was too numb to respond with verbage, so you instead sat up and kissed Minho with more passion than you previously had. "That's my girl," he mumbled against your lips. You mustered up enough strength to push Minho on his back, his hands instantly crawling up to squeeze the plush of your ass.

"Your turn," you tiredly stated, causing a chuckle to escape Lee Know's mouth. He encapsulated you in yet another kiss as your hands traveled down to his black, ripped jeans. You quickly found the zipper, unzipping his pants while simultaneously, yet unintentionally, palming his erection and eliciting a needy groan from him. With a bit of help from him, you shimmied his jeans and his boxers down, allowing his cock to spring free from its prior restraint. You took his shirt off of him just as fast, leaving both of you bare in front of one another.

"C'mere," he commanded, moving you forward on his lap to the point in which you were straddling him as he was sitting up. "Spread those legs for me." You shifted your position to where you were doing just that, giving him enough room to push up into you comfortably. "There you go," he praised before softly gripping your chin and pulling you into a brief yet fiery kiss.

"Look at me," Minho adjured you. "I don't want to miss a second of this pretty face." The compliment caused you to go red once more, making Minho in turn giggle. "Are you ready?" he asked before going forward.

"Yes, I have been, please, Min," you were not even sure what you were begging for, but Minho found it adorable nevertheless.

"Please what, baby?"

"Please fuck me."

Minho could not help but smirk at your bold comment as if to say, 'As you wish.' He adjusted his dick to align with your entrance and slowly but surely, inch by inch pushed himself inside of you. The stretch you felt from the endeavor was painful, yet delicious, and both you and Minho groaned from the feeling of one another's arousal. Minho was still for a minute, allowing for you to adjust to his length. Without warning, you began to slowly bounce on his length, taking Lee Know completely by surprise. Moans quickly refilled the apartment air, this time coming from both parties.

"Thereee you go," Minho groaned out as you continued your movements, his hands bracing themselves on your hips both to steady you and to keep himself in tact. "Move those hips for me baby."

A plethora of praises began to feel the air as you sped up your movements on Minho's cock, consisting of, 'That's it, baby,' 'Keep doing that,' and the ever so common, 'Yes, yes, yes!' along with multiple swears that adorned the vicinity. All reasonable judgment had left the area, with both you and Minho becoming concerned with each other's pleasure ass moans and movements began to become more frequent.

This statement only proved its factuality as Minho heard a buzzing sound coming from behind him. Your movements began to slow down as you heard it too; of course, it was your phone that was responsible. Minho grabbed your phone and scoffed, a sly, 'fuck,' falling from his lips as he read the caller ID.

"Look who it is again," he laughed sarcastically, showing you the phone screen as you continued your dulled thrusts. "And he's calling this time." Minho pondered for a moment before an idea came into his head. Amidst the noises of skin slapping, he asked you, "Should I answer it?" Your face instantly contorted into an expression of worry and anxiety.

"No, no, Min. D-don't answer it," you stammered out in a mix of breathlessness and fret.

"Are you sure? I think he's g-getting kind of worried," Minho retorted, the cockiness evident in his tone. Despite your wishes, he picked up the call.

"Hello?" Almost instantaneously, you clenched around Minho, both out of worry and exhileration. It was an anxiety-stricken situation, that was for certain; however, something about the confidence Minho exerted in that moment turned you on, so much so to the point where you accidentally let out a high pitched moan.

"Shh," Minho held a hand over your mouth, holding the phone away from you both. "You don't want him to hear you moaning like this, do you?" You shook your head no as Minho smirked and brought your phone back to his ear. "Sorry, what was that? Yeah, she's busy with me right now, but if you want me to leave a message for you, I can. You sure? Alright, no problem. Take care, man." Minho finally hung up the phone. "I think he got the message."

Although you could not hear the other end of the conversation, you were almost positive the guy could ear the lewd noises coming from your side of the receiver. It should have embarrassed you to no end, but it only made your eroticism grow. As such, you bounced harder and faster on Minho's cock, causing him to throw his head back in pleasure and release a string of swears.

"Fuck, baby. You were squeezing me so tightly while I was on the phone," he remarked about the gesture you had hoped he had not tooken notice of. "Were you that nervous or was it that," he stopped his interrogation to caputre you in yet again another passionate kiss, "you liked it? Hm?"

You could not bring yourself to answer him verbally, instead allowing moan upon moan to be uttered. Minho did not mind, however, instead allowing the both of you to become lost within your pleasure. With the pace you had set for the occasion, it was not long until you found yourself nearing a second orgasm, and from the way Minho's hips had began to stutter against your own and his whines becoming more high pitched, you figured it was the same case for him. He proved you correct moments later.

"Close, 'M close," he repeated several times over. "Keep going. Just like that for me, yeah?" His hands grasped your hips, aiding you in swiftening your movements on his cock, bouncing faster than you had ever been able to manage before. "Where baby? Where do you want me to cum?"

"Inside," you replied without hesitation. Your answer surprised Minho initially, but it quickly morphed into excitement. Minho felt his orgasm creeping up on him, so he buried his head into the crook of your neck, thrusting his hips into your own as he quickly tried to bring himself to release.

You, on the other hand, felt yourself already coming undone once more, and Minho's additional thrusts were the straws that broke the camel's back. You saw stars as your second orgasm hit, feeling more intense than the first by a longshot. The sight itself alone was enough to arouse Minho to completion, and he let himself go, realising thick white ropes of cum inside of you and groaning immensely while doing so.

As both of you came down from your respective highs, you laid your head on Minho's chest, your breathing heavy and your blood pumping. Minho held you close to him, not wanting to let you go in that moment.

"Damn," he finally broke the silence with a chuckle. He lifted your head up towards him, muttering a, 'c'mere' as he brought you in for a kiss, this one much less intense than the ones prior.

"You did so well, baby," he rubbed your arms as he spoke. "I'm so proud of you."

"Thank you," was all you could mumble against him. You somehow felt weak yet on Cloud 9 at the same time. It was a weird feeling, but exhilerating none the less. You attempted to lift yourself off of Minho, but the boy's strong arms kept you held down.

"Let's just stay like this for a little while, yeah?" You nodded, bringing yourself to lie down on top of Minho. "Are you alright, Princess?"

"Mhm," you sleepily mumbled. "You?"

"Well, I didn't expect to be doing this tonight, but yes. I am great." Minho looked up at the sight of you: your hair stuck to your forehead once more, beads of sweat cascaded like waterfalls down your body, and you were ninety-nine percent sure your makeup was running. Yet, Minho thought you were the most beautiful girl he had ever seen, and he vocalized it.

"I look like the personified spawn of Satan right now, Minho." Minho could not help but burst into a fit of laughter at your words.

"You're always beautiful to me," he retorted. You smiled down at him, feeling yourself doze off in his arms, but not before he muttered one more thing:

"So, no more of him then, right?"

[lostintransist]

Listen all I gotta say is price and Johnny are the type to bear hug you during sex. I mean like fully encompassing your whole body, holding you as close as possible with their strong ass grip while they’re balls deep in you. That’s all, thank you and have a great day :)

Oooh anon I like the way you think. Let me posit a few ideas for you. Because brevity is NOT a skill I possess all my thoughts are below the fold.

MDNI 18+, Female reader (because it fits the narrative I want to write today)

CW: Pap smears and doctors appointments mentioned, sex (obviously), mentions of lubrication and anatomy lessons (because if I have to read one more 'it's so tight' I am going to start fight club in your comments. If the vagina is 'tight' it isn't aroused! Vaginas are small when not being used for pleasure or producing a human.)

Johnny "Soap" MacTavish

Johnny bear hugs you, but not frequently. The first time it happened he had been hounding you all day for some action. You put him off with a smile and wore your prettiest day dress out for errands. "I can't miss my appointment today Johnny, and if I leave now I can get some shopping done."

He goes with you obviously because he hasn't seen you in weeks because of his job and spending time with you even at an appointment is better than missing you from home.

You didn't mention and he failed to ask what kind of appointment you had. Imgagine his delight shock to see you strip off your dress with absolutely nothing underneath because you have a yearly physical.

Let's not even argue the point that Johnny is horrified to see how a pap smear goes and apologizes the rest of the day that you have to do that as a part of having him as a newer partner. [I hate pap smears so much...Like I want to fist fight god for making them a thing that needs to happen.]

It takes him a couple hours to get over the sick feeling in his stomach. You had been mid conversation when the provider reached up and flipped down the sheet covering your breasts. They pressed and prodded all without either of you acknowleding what was happening. Was that normal? (It absolutely is.)

When you do finally let him convince (Lets not lie you also wanted this all day) help you to bed end up riding him as he orgasms. His arms snake out and pull you to his chest, the powerful bands of his muscles holding you tight to his chest as he shudders below you. He is overwhelmed and in awe of the things you have to do to keep your body healthy and how part of those things are his fault.

It does prevent you from coming like you wanted but Johnny, once he can see again, takes care of you before settling you both in a bath.

Captain John Price

This man is so used to being in charge that the first time he sinks home into you he is snaking his arms around you to bear hug you to his chest.

"If you move even a bit I am going to explode inside you like a fourteen year old boy and his first time touching a lover," he growls into your shoulder.

He didn't need to use lube on the regular but after you explained he quickly agreed.

"John you could do hours of foreplay and I would still not produce enough fluid to make this an enjoyable experiance for either of us." You smile uncomfortably as his eyebrows tuck downward in confusion. With a shrug you continue, "My body does all the other normal things."

"Normal things like what?" Ah man, he did it now. Education on bodies that had vaginas would always get you on a rant. "So you know how in media the common thing to say about a vagina when inserting a penis is 'oh it's so tight' because it is supposed to feel good for a man?"

John leans back in his chair, contemplation exchanged for his look of confusion. "Yes, go on."

"Okay. When a penis gets erect it grows in size and shape typically, so does a vagina. An unaroused vagina is only about 2 inches in length but when aroused it grows to on average about 4. The rush of blood down there allows it to become more elastic and accomodate many shapes and sizes."

At John's nod you continue, because you know that this can be an uncomfortable topic but you refused to go to bed with a man who didn't care enough to understand how your body works.

"Typically with arousal the vagina creates a lot of fluid to help with insertion." "Isn't that what precum is about too?" Biting your lip you decide if you are going to ruin his day. "No. What we call precum is a cleaning fluid because pee and baby batter use the same tubing in a penis."

"Oh." He looks mildy uncomfortable with this information. Well in for a penny in for a pound. "All that to say, I would love to have sex with you but we will need to use lube because my body doesn't produce enough fluid and the fluid you make isn't really what I will need."

John thought about that conversation as he sank home, the plushness of your thighs bracketing his hips. Shoving one arm behind your neck and the other under your back as you lay under him he focuses on breathing.

Lord only knows that an anatomy lesson from you would be what nearly sends him over the edge. When you start twitching under him he holds you tighter, a slight wheeze escaping your chest.

"Dove I am getting older and don't recover like I used to, give me another ten seconds and then I will fuck you like I'm trying to touch your brain."

That delightful little sentence had you clenching around him, but your hips stopped shifting. Damn, he might need to ask his doctor for some little blue pills because one round a night with you might not be enough.

I'm so totally normal about these fictional characters...yep.. totally normal.

[johnwickb1tsch]

lessons in anatomy IX

a yandere art professor John Wick x drawing model muse! reader AU... (also featuring Matt from River's Edge. If you haven't seen the movie that's ok, I will fill in the gaps as we go...) ->chapter map

IX.

-While you’re waiting in the empty classroom you're staring at the drawings pinned up on the wall. Each student was asked to display their first drawing in class, and their last one. The improvement between Matt’s two is staggering. Composition, form, shape, line, contrast, fucking everything–he’s come so far, and you cannot fathom what John could find to dislike about the latest one. The longer you look at it, the more you boil inside, to the point when Professor Wick returns to his desk you are ready to explode.

“Y/n,” he greets stiffly, setting his briefcase down. He looks tired, a little haggard even, his raven black beard grown bushy like it hasn't seen a razor in quite a few days. You wonder what makes John Wick lose sleep. For a moment you can't help but feel sorry for him, which in turn only frustrates you more. 

You don’t say anything, just glower, before turning back to the wall. 

“Is something wrong?” You nearly jump out of your skin, his voice coming from right behind you, and you did not hear him move.

“Yeah. What the hell is your problem with Matt?”

You sound brave, but you don’t actually have the courage to turn to look at him. 

“I don’t have a problem with Matt.” You scoff, biting down on your first three rude replies, grinding them between your teeth. “Are you upset that I picked on your boyfriend?” 

There’s an edge of taunting to his words, and finally you do whirl. You regret it instantly–Wick is very tall, and very looming, and you have to swallow your heart back down your throat. 

“He is not my boyfriend, and you are being an ass.”  

He frowns at this, not angry yet, but you have definitely crossed a line. 

You’re getting fired today. 

You’re so certain of it that you decide you may as well say what’s exactly on your mind. “Look at the difference between these! Would it kill you to give him some encouragement?”

You know you have a misplaced savior complex, but Matt doesn't have a mother who will stick up for him. Someone should. You ignore the chuckling Palpatine voice in your head. Yesss, the ‘I can fix him!’ is strong in this one…

“He won’t learn that way, y/n. He has improved. But this study is still trash. Even with the extra time he spent on it.” He fixes you with a gimlet stare, and suddenly you know he must know all about your extra session. He must have excellent hearing from across the classroom. “How is that fair? I didn’t hear you offering anyone else extra time. Why not Josh? He could use the extra help.” 

Josh is very sweet. He also strongly resembles Mr. Toad, and you know Wick is calling you out for playing favorites– with your vagina. 

“That’s not the point,” you grumble.

“No? You just think you’re qualified to tell me how to run my class?”  

You know you’re on thin ice–but you lift your chin anyway. “Just calling it like I see it.” 

“Yeah? Let’s play that game.” Suddenly he is turning you brusquely by your shoulders, his long fingers gripping you firmly. 

Outside of that first handshake, he’s never touched you before–you should be scared, but the strength you feel in his hands just makes you weak. He speaks low by your ear, the resonance of his deep voice raising every hair on your body. “How many vertebrae are in your neck?” 

“I…don’t know.” 

“Oh. So you didn’t read your textbook either?” He sweeps your hair aside, running one finger lightly over the knobs of your spine. The back of your neck is your Kryptonite, and you cannot stop the shudder that runs through your frame.“The answer is seven. Though to judge from his shading, you’d think the answer was nine.”

“I…” He withdraws, though you still feel the blistering line of his body heat from him standing so close behind you. 

“The bottoms of your scapulae are here.” He touches your back lightly with just two fingers, but it sends a delicious thrill down your spine. There is only the thin fabric of your robe between his hands and your skin; It feels so good, and in that moment you wish you could die.  “They are not, as our young friend suggests, here.” 

His fingers move two inches down, feather light, and as you look at the drawing again…maybe he has a point. You’re not sure, because it is impossible to focus while his hands are on your body, even if barely. How is it possible to put so much aggression in a featherlight touch? You don’t know, but you fancy you can feel that he is seething through his very fingertips.  

“Unless she’s starving, individual ribs are not typically visible on a woman’s body in this position, merely the suggestion of the ribcage cased in flesh. He’s given you…” His fingertips press lightly into your sides, and it takes every iota of self control the gods ever gave you not to squirm as he spiderwalks down your ribcage, counting, “One, two, three, four…”

For a handful of seconds you cannot breathe.

“John…” 

He ignores your plaintive entreaty; you don’t even know what you’re asking for. You’re not sure you even want him to stop, yet you don’t think you can survive if he continues. 

“They’re tangible, but not visible.” 

All you can take are shallow breaths; you start to feel light headed, and you wonder if you’re about to pass out–or cum, just from him touching your back. The ache between your thighs is pure agony. 

Next a single finger traces down the inward curve of your spine, and damn you if you don’t stand up straighter. “These are your lumbar vertebrae,” he says low in your ear. “There are five of them. Who the fuck knows what’s going on there.” Hearing him curse feels like he’s plucked a string directly tied to your center. Your breasts have tightened to unbearably sharp peaks, sliding against the silky fabric of your robe with every treacherous breath you take. The flood of moisture between your thighs is mortifying. You’re going to need a shower before you model today. An ice cold one. 

He’s barely touched you, and yet somehow you can’t decide if this is wonderful, or obscene. 

“And finally…” Somehow you know he only uses one hand to span your lower back, pressing at two points with his thumb and pinky just above your buttocks. You hold your breath, helpless under his touch, entranced by his low voice as he leans in to lecture, “The Dimples of Venus, arguably the loveliest feature of the female backside. I know you have them, yet he has left them out completely. What a crime. What do you say to that, Miss y/n?” 

You let your breath out with a shuddering exhale, so filled with desire and adrenaline that you fear you might pop a brain vessel. “I might…see your point,” you finally manage to get out in a whisper. 

“Good girl.” He practically growls it in your ear, and fuck you if your pussy doesn’t pulse and flutter for those two words alone. 

You have lost your goddamn mind. Or, he has.  

Suddenly he steps away; without thinking you hug yourself, cold without his furnace of a body at your back. Perhaps you’re in shock; with wide eyes you turn to face him again, mouth hanging, all words turned to ash on your tongue. 

He returns your gaze with a challenge of his own, those dark orbs black as a coal fire.

You feel as though he can see into your very soul–yet you cannot read him.

If he is angry, or smug, or vindicated, or even horny…nothing shows upon that handsome visage. He is like a statue carved of alabaster and onyx, unmoving all but for his stare burning through you. 

Before either of you can dig this hole any deeper, the students start pouring in, and you have to excuse yourself to the bathroom.  

TBC...

___

->chapter map pinterest board/ photo credits

[watermelonlovershigh]

i went through your masterlist and i saw you wrote about the reader being insecure about having an outie (literally thank you for even writing about it !! i’ve never seen anyone write about that insecurity before) and i was wondering if you could write about the reader not letting harry go down on her bc she’s insecure about her outtie and harry doesn’t know about her insecurity until he questions why he can’t eat her out and he’s all loving to her afterwards ☺️

"Can I taste you?" /SMUT/

AN: i loved this ask as soon as i seen it because a perfect scenario of how i wanted this to go came to me. and thank you. outies are the most common for women to have. but all vaginas are beautiful. i hope you enjoy and remember to send your feedback to let me know how i've done. thanks for reading. xoxo ps. i debated on posting this today or not after the events that happened two days ago, but i hope by posting this it can distract some of your minds from the devastation of recent tragedies.

This story contains: mentions of a verbally abusive ex, body insecurities, comfort, smut (female receiving oral sex), fluff

{ boyfriendrry - soft!harry - au!harry - dating for three months }

word count- 2,512

You have major insecurities about how your body looks due to an ex boyfriend, so when your current boyfriend Harry asks if he can taste you for the first time, your reaction forces him to give you comforting words to easy your worries.

Over the course of three months, you and Harry have been dating and it's been an incredible experience. Normally, you spend your time at each other's homes, watching films or playing board games. But recently, Harry has been putting more effort into making your time together special. Therefore, when Friday comes, he wanted to take you out for a pleasant dinner instead of remaining indoors throughout the evening.

It's worthy to note that your relationship was initiated by mutual friends. Tina, a friend from your college years, and Carter, who works with Harry, were neighbors growing up. Upon discovering they both had a single friend from their separate lives, they took the initiative to set the two of you up. Although you felt quite anxious about the blind date, you now have no regrets, as it's introduced you to the wonderful person that Harry was.

Another important detail regarding your relationship is that the most intimate you've gotten is making out. You informed Harry on your first date that you wanted to take things slow, and he's respected that boundary. Your first kiss was shared approximately five dates in, and you didn't engage in making out until the sixth date. Although you very much desire going further with your sexy boyfriend, your fear of intimacy is getting in the way, which stems from some very hurtful things your verbally abusive ex once said to you. It's brought your confidence way down and the idea of having sex ever again terrifies you.

Your dinner date was delightful. Harry brought you to an Italian restaurant situated in downtown London, where you had great conversations and delicious pasta. After your meal, Harry invited you back to his place, and you found it hard to say no. You appreciated the warmth and coziness of his charming house. Unlike the standard apartment or house of many millennial guys, Harry's home had the inviting essence of a grandparent's house, specifically the ones that were smoke-free.

As you arrived back to his house, both of you made your way to his couch, where the atmosphere began to shift drastically. During the car journey, it was clear that Harry was restless, his hand lingering on your thigh as he navigated the road. Yet, this version of Harry is unlike any you've previously seen. He kisses you with an intensity that's almost primal, and you find yourself responding eagerly. His large hands gently holds your jaw as your mouths align, and your tongues dance together.

With a brief pause from your lips, Harry begins trailing kisses down your jaw until he reaches your neck. Although he hadn't ventured this far before, the pleasure was so intense that you don't think to stop him. However, your response to his soft inquiry against your warm skin—"Can I taste you? Hhm? I really wanna taste you."—caused your entire body to freeze. This reaction leads Harry to withdraw his lips, concerned that he was progressing too quickly for your comfort tonight.

"Shit, m'sorry. I shouldn't have asked that. Forget I said anythin'. Can just keep kissin' if you'd like. Or not. We can cuddle if you're more comfortable with that. Whatever you want." Nervous Harry tends to ramble a lot, you've come to learn.

The sight of Harry's distress concerning your potential rejection of his suggestion evokes a feeling of sadness within you. You want Harry to, have a taste, as he puts it. You're certain of his talents in that department. Yet, the notion of him seeing you entirely fills you with anxiety. "Um, no, it's not that I don't want you to. It's just um... well..."

"What is it, Y/n? You can tell me. I'd never judge you?" Harry speaks softly, wanting you to know he'd never judge you for your reasoning, nor would he push you to do anything you didn't want to do. It was a mere suggestion on his part from being in the heat of the moment.

With a deep breath, you decide to share, "Um, my ex, the one I've mentioned before...... Well, anytime we'd get intimate, having sex or other things, he would constantly criticize my body. He would highlight specific areas that he found unappealing, often saying how I didn't look like his past partners. He even suggested that I get surgery to resemble the women he viewed in porn." It's now apparent that his addiction to pornography significantly influenced his views, causing him to adopt an unrealistic standard of beauty for women to have.

Shocked, Harry exclaims with anger bubbling in his chest, "I can't believe he would say such things to you. M'sorry. I want you to know that I would never think or express those words to you. Every body is uniquely different, and that's what makes us who we are. When you're ready for us to be fully intimate with one another, please remember that your appearance will never concern me."

His warm words have a profound effect on your heart. Although the remarks from your ex continue to echo in your thoughts, the notion of Harry eating you out becomes increasingly enticing. Dismissing your anxieties, you respond with certainty, "We can... I mean, you can if that's what you want to do. I trust you, Harry. It’s not that I was ever against the idea of you eating me out or us eventually having sex. Just um, my ex's criticisms left me feeling insecure about how you would view my body. But after sharing what I did, I feel better about it and trust you enough to go there with you."

Harry looks directly in your eyes before confirming, "You sure? I don't have to if you think it's too much tonight. We can always wait until you feel more comfortable."

"I'm sure, Harry." If he keeps stalling and looking for your reassurance, it may lead to you overthinking the situation and reconsider your permission. The quicker he begins, the better. Harry leans in to place a final kiss on your lips before he slowly kneels down in front of you. With a measured pace, he starts kissing up your jean covered legs, moving from your knees to your upper thighs. When you felt his fingers exploring your empty belt loops, you gave a nod, giving him the go-ahead to slide the fabric down.

After your jeans have been entirely taken off and carelessly thrown onto the living room floor for later attention, Harry looks down and notices a wet patch on the front of your underwear. A smile forms on his face, pleased to see that you've become so aroused just from kissing. He wonders how you've manage to stay so composed during your past make out sessions when things didn't progress further like they are tonight. He's knows for himself personally, he often had to sneak away to the bathroom to relieve himself after your dates when lengthy kissing sessions were involved.

In a display of bravery, instead of waiting for Harry to ask if he could pull down your panties, you raise your hips from the couch and start removing them yourself. You consciously avoid looking down, fearful of his reaction, and keep your eyes fixated on the ceiling. When Harry catches sight of the lower half of your exposed body, he appears bewildered, unable to identify any imperfections that your previous partner could have mentioned. You look completely normal in his eyes.

In the past, Harry has slept with several women and with each one, has appreciated their bodies as they were. To him, as a grown ass man, pussy is pussy, regardless if the women was clean shaven or rocking a bush. Whether her lower lips were petite or more pronounced, he found all variations to be perfectly normal and enjoyable. (As long as they were clean, hygiene wise, of course.) Just like he's aware no two dicks look the same either.

"Y/n, look at me."

You cast a hesitant glance downward, where you notice a gentle smile on Harry's face, making his dimples pop out more prominently. He extends his hands to grasp yours, which are resting at your sides, and speaks in a soothing tone, "Do you know what I see, Y/n? Hm? I see a perfectly normal vagina. It appears entirely typical. In my past experiences with various women, I can honestly say that many of them resembled yours. I believe what yours looks like is quite common, at least based on what I've seen in person. What is often seen in porn is largely artificial. Many of those women undergo surgeries to achieve those Barbie lookin' genitals. So do not allow anyone to convince you that this *gestures towards your pussy with his hands* is anythin' but natural, normal."

His sincere compliments nearly bring you to the brink of tears. Where has Harry been all your life? He's always so kind and nurturing. His personality is completely different from any man you have ever dated or had a fling with. He seems to be the epitome of perfection, and you're starting to think that you might be in love with him, even after just three months of dating.

Just before he starts, Harry asks a final question. "One last question before I begin. Did your ex at least manage to make you come when he ate you out?" He's eager to know this information to ensure that he can provide an exceptional performance, aiming for you to come hard from just his tongue alone.

Shaking your head, you respond embarrassedly, "No, um, he typically only spent a few minutes down there, and it was never long enough for me to reach an orgasm." It perplexed him how any man, apart from a gay man of course, could limit themselves to just a few minutes of giving oral pleasure to a female, when he personally could easily immerse himself in a woman's pussy for an eternity. Engaging in such acts may very well be his greatest passion.

"We'll have to change that, won't we." Harry speaks seductively right over your damp pussy, his hot breath bringing chills up your spine, and moving one of his hands out of your grasp to rest on your pubic bone. Maintaining eye contact, you observe as Harry leans in and traces a broad line from the hole in which your dripping from, up to your clitoris. He then proceeds to circle his tongue languidly around your clit while his thumb holds back the hood for more exposure, prompting you to arch your body against the couch in pleasure. The sensation his tongue is giving you is far more pleasurable than any experience you had with your previous partner(s).

With one hand still intertwined with yours, which remains at your side, Harry stays persistent in licking, sucking, and almost devouring your entire pussy as if he hasn't eaten all day. He eats you like a starved man. Eventually, he lets go of your other hand and splays it out on your bare thigh, encouraging you to spread your legs wider for him. You find it increasingly difficult to keep your legs from closing as he concentrates on your throbbing clit.

Harry realizes now that your hands are no longer in his, they seem to be longing for something to hold again. Momentarily withdrawing from your slick cunt, he instructs, "Put your hands in my hair. I don't mind. Pull and tug as you please; it won't hurt me, promise." With a hint of hesitation, you comply. You lace your fingers through his brown curls and as soon as his mouth returns to your clit, you can't help but tug on his hair, drawing him impossibly closer to your core.

He carries on for another three minutes, making your sensitivity levels escalate and your body grow warmer. With one final, firm tug on his hair, you cry out, "Oh my God! Mhm, fuck! I'm gonna come, Har......Harryy!" At that moment, an overwhelming sensation washes over you. As Harry continues to flick his tongue over your pulsating clit, you hold his head tightly against you, not caring whether he can breath or not in the moment. As the intense orgasm envelopes you, your mind becomes completely empty of any worries or thoughts.

Slowly, the intensity of your high starts to subside, leaving you breathless on Harry's couch as he gradually removes his mouth from your sensitive pussy. While your eyes focus their gaze on the ceiling, you felt the soft caresses of Harry's thumbs tracing circles on your bare thighs, which finally compels you to look down. The first thing you notice is his face covered in a glossy substance from having been nestled between your legs, and then a smile that was unmistakably joyful.

You're completely lost for words. That may have been a stronger orgasm then you've ever given yourself. "So...." Harry begins nervously, "how was that?"

"Um.... wow, that was.....just wow."

Harry finds amusement in how he's rendered you at a loss of words. "Made you speechless, have I?" he teased. You nod in agreement, prompting him to continue. "See, I promised you there was nothin' to fear. Your pussy is as beautiful as it is tasty. You should never feel self-conscious with me; I'd never pass judgment on you for somethin' out of your control." His honesty touches your heart. He consistently proves himself to be a true gentleman, elevating your standards for men to a very high level. You really hope this relationship lasts, because you believe it'll be difficult to find someone as perfect as Harry ever again.

-------------------------------

Harry assisted you in cleaning up and asked if you'd like to stay the night. You had spent nights together in the past, alternating between each other's homes, but those times generally involved sharing a bed without cuddling, as Harry was uncertain about your comfort with such closeness. However tonight, after he'd seen you half naked with his face between your legs, your comfort level had clearly advanced beyond what it had been previously.

After both of you got into bed, you remained on your individual sides until you felt bold enough to initiate cuddling with your boyfriend. You realized that Harry was being cautious still, so you decided to move closer, laying your head on his chest and draping your left arm over his waist. "Is this alright?" you quietly asked in the dark room.

Harry quickly loosed his stiff body up and wrapped his arms around you, so he could hold you close. Whispering back, Harry replied, "Definitely alright. I love cuddles." Now that you know Harry loved cuddles, you'll have to give him cuddles more often.

Soon sleep found you both and the house became quiet. The only sounds that could be heard was your soft breathing and the rustling of trees outside. After tonight, you feel way more confident to go further with Harry. Matter of fact, you hope you can go further with him really soon. Just the thought of that brings excitement to you, and certain parts of your body.

(PLEASE REBLOG BECAUSE WRITING IS NOT EASY AND IT'S FREE SO JUST DO IT)

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My Masterlist Masterpost

[shiorimakibawrites]

Indulgences (Alley Cat #18)

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem! Reader Summary: You and Matt haven't had sex in over a week. Tonight, you indulge yourself. Warnings: Explicit sexual content, mild dominance /submission elements, very mild pain kink, unprotected penis in vagina sex, riding, mild overstimulation, breast worship, oral sex (female receiving), swearing, crude language, vaginal fingering, multiple orgasms Alley Cat Masterlist Matt Murdock/Daredevil Masterlist General Masterlist Taglist: @loves0phelia, @nowheredreamer, @beezusvreeland, @yarrystyleeza, @justvalkyrie A03 Link Special thanks to @loveroftoomanyfandoms and @pastafossa for their help beta-reading this piece.

Part 18: Indulgences

Even though you were expecting it, the knock on your living room window still made you jump – earning you a few very loud protests from the cat beside you. The Kingpin of Kitty Krimes (pending trademark) had come waltzing in an hour after Matt’s call and ate his dinner before promptly curling up on your couch. 

Later, when you had sat yourself down, he had wormed his way to rest his head on your thigh, immediately earning himself forgiveness for his earlier cat-tastrophy.

“It’s unlocked,” you said, knowing full well that Matt could hear you.

“You shouldn’t leave your windows unlocked, sweetheart,” Matt said as he climbed into your apartment, a gym bag slung over his shoulder. “Anyone could be climbing that fire escape.”

“You know how many people I’ve seen doing that?” you retorted as he set the bag down by the wall. “One. You might be familiar with him. Wears a red Devil suit, fights crime?”

“That does sound a little familiar,” Matt said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “But I am visually impaired, sweetheart. Descriptions like ‘wears a red Devil suit’ aren’t very helpful.”

You rolled your eyes. “So says the guy wearing the Devil suit.”

Matt pretended to pat himself down and feigned surprise at feeling the armor and horned helmet under his gloved hands. “Good Lord, you’re right! I’m wearing a Devil suit!”

You couldn’t stop the giggles that set in. There was just something inherently funny about Matt being goofy while wearing the Daredevil suit that completely contradicted and undercut any intimidation factor it possessed.

Which, you thought as you watched Matt’s pleased smile grow, might have been the point.

Any attempt to chase down that thought was derailed by Houdini, irritated by either the shifting of your leg under his head, the sudden lack of scratches, the presence of Matt, or some combination of all three. He quickly hopped down off the couch with a string of complaints. 

“Don’t sass me, mister,” you said as you rose to your feet. “You’ve been very naughty today.” 

That, predictably enough, only got you more backtalk as the cat stomped off in the general direction of his cat tree.

“Tell it to the judge, furball!” you called after his retreating tail. 

“Has anyone told Houdini that he has the right to remain silent?” Matt asked, a little smirk that shouldn’t be as attractive as it was on his lips.

“He has the right,” you replied. “What he lacks is the capacity.”

Matt laughed and pulled off his helmet before setting it down on the coffee table. While he pulled off his gloves, something about the sight of his hazel eyes bright with amusement and his messy hair, a few stray strands stuck to his forehead with sweat, brought home just how much you had missed him the past several days – and not just for sex. You had missed his company, missed having more than just a quick conversation on the phone.

“Hey.” You stepped up to Matt and reached up to cup his face in your hands. “Missed you.”

Matt nuzzled into your hands, his eyes sliding closed with a pleased hum. “Missed you too, sweetheart.”

His hands raised almost of their own volition to settle on your hips, a surprised hum on his lips as his fingertips encountered the first of your planned surprises. “More silk, sweetheart?”

“Yes,” you replied. “The sheets alone didn’t qualify for free shipping. And this-” 

Your breath hitched as his fingers dipped under the edge of the lacy waistband of the panties. “-Red silk camisole and panty set looked nice.”

“Feels nice too,” Matt mused, his fingers still playing with your waistband. “Almost as nice as your bare skin.”

He put up no resistance to you tugging his head down for a kiss, a slow, languid exploration of each other’s mouths. Your thumb glided over Matt's  cheek, enjoying the contrast between his rough stubble and soft skin, while your other hand migrated up to the nape of his neck, unable to resist the siren’s call of his hair–a sentiment that appeared to be entirely mutual, as one of Matt's hands had left your hip in favor of cradling the back of your head.

Matt's mouth tasted faintly of coffee but stronger was his scent in your nose, the usual elements of paper and plain soap muted in favor of leather, sweat, and something that you couldn’t really describe other than as ‘good man smell’.

The fingers of his other hand, which until now had never stopped playing with the waistband of your panties, slipped further down. You broke away from his mouth, gasping at the brush of two fingers against your clit while your grip on his hair tightened. 

His hand didn’t stop there, sliding through your folds to your entrance. When one finger sank into you easily, he moaned.“Thought you smelled already soaked…and so sensitive,” he rumbled against your neck. “Were you touching yourself, sweetheart?”

“Y-ah!-Yes!” you panted out, arching up into him as he worked in a second finger. The sense of fullness as he stretched you felt so good–you had fingered yourself earlier but his fingers were bigger, longer. “Wanted… to be ready…ahhh… have plans…”

“Plans?” Matt repeated, kissing your neck. “And what are you planning to do, sweetheart?”

“Want to… hmmmm…” You trailed off, pleasure fogging your brain as Matt's thumb rubbing little circles on your clit and those wonderful fingers thrusting in and out of you threatened to derail all your plans. You had to fight your way through that haze just so you could pant out your desire. “Ride you.”

Matt moaned. “Fuck… gonna kill me, sweet girl.”

Then he kissed you, but there was nothing slow and languid about this kiss. This kiss was a hungry, fiery thing, and all the while his fingers continued to work you, curling to rub against that spot that sent white-hot sparks up your spine. 

Your nails did their best to dig into his shoulder but his armor got in the way. His nape wasn’t so lucky but he didn’t seem to mind the pain, groaning into your mouth.

“So… do you… want…” You managed to pant before getting cut off by a cry, your legs trembling as pleasure threatened to tumble you over that edge.

“Oh God, yes, yes,” he said, his eyes near black with hunger and anticipation.

This enthusiastic agreement had you feeling unusually bold so you ordered, “Strip.”

Matt was quick to obey. Your cunt wasn’t enthusiastic about the loss of his fingers inside you, clenching tightly around them as he withdrew them. But your reward was watching him strip off his Daredevil suit with an impressive speed. Almost faster than you could blink, the top half was dangling from his waist and he was bending down to loosen the straps on his legs. You weren’t at the right angle to really appreciate his ass but the rippling muscles of his back weren’t a bad consolation prize. Growling when a boot lace proved recalcitrant, then the muttered ‘Finally!’ when the lace broke and he could yank the boot off. Its counterpart was far more cooperative. Shortly after, he was stepping out of his suit clad only in black boxers which didn’t last any longer than the rest of his clothing.

Matt stood before you, naked save for the cross hanging from his neck. You didn’t know where he had been hiding it, or maybe you had just been so swept away that you had simply missed it last time… but one thing you did know was that there was something very hot about it, a kink that you didn’t know you had. Or rather, it was another kink you had just discovered. Because seeing Matt, erect and waiting for your next order, gave you a thrill that you couldn’t put into words. All that muscle, all that power, and yet he was yours to command… it had your cunt clenching desperately.

“Couch,” you ordered. He didn’t need to be told twice. You stared at his growing erection as you pulled the camisole over your head and dropped it to the floor. But when your fingers hooked into the waistband of your panties and started to slide them off, his steps faltered. Nostrils flaring, a whine escaped his throat.

“Matthew,” you reminded him as you stepped out of your soaked panties. Another whine but then he obediently resumed stepping back toward the couch. Fortunately for both of your sanities, your living room wasn’t very big. Soon, the back of his legs hit the couch and he sank down onto it. You walked toward him. Any nerves that tried to rise withered and died at the expression of his face, a mixture of hunger, excitement, and eager anticipation.

All of which grew as you placed your right knee on the couch alongside his left thigh, then bracing yourself with a hand on his shoulder, raised your left leg onto the couch until you were straddling him. His hands rose to grip your hips but otherwise he just waited to see what you would do.

The first thing you did was use one hand to tilt his head back and kiss him. A kiss that you meant to be gentle but found yourself too hungry, licking into his mouth and biting at that tempting lower lip of his. He moaned, hands tightening on your hips but still he waited for you to lower yourself down onto his lap. And that’s exactly what you did. You both moaned the moment your slick cunt touched his cock. But that moan was nothing compared to the ones that followed when you started slowly grinding against his cock.

You trailed your fingers down his neck, listening for when those moans broke off into hitched breaths and the skin under your fingertips quivered. And when you found one, you lowered your mouth to it, kissing, licking, and nipping at that spot until his hands dug into your hips hard enough to bruise. He also couldn’t seem to stop himself from arching his hips into the grinding movement of your hips. Head thrown back against the backrest of the couch, eyes closed as moans and curses spilled out of his mouth like water… God, he was beautiful.

Then your exploring fingers brushed a nipple and he cried out, jack-knifing up against you.

“Sweetheart, please,” he begged, his voice strained. “Gonna cum. Want to feel… fuck, ah… you first… please!”

You raised yourself off his lap, gripped his throbbing cock into your right hand, and lined him up with your entrance. You started to lower and had to stop. Even with fingering yourself and Matt fingering you afterward… he was so thick, you could barely fit even the tip of him inside you. The stretch didn’t hurt, exactly, but there was a warning sting to it.

You took a deep breath and gripped his shoulders. Then you carefully lowered yourself, slowly taking in more and more of his cock. Matt was tense under you, eyes screwed shut as he fought not to thrust upward. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he was fully sheathed inside you. And you felt so damn good. You’d never get tired of his cock stretching you out, your cunt fluttering around him as it adjusted to this delicious fullness.

All the while Matt’s hands roamed your body and he murmured, “Fuck, fuck… feel so good, sweet girl… perfect… made for me…”

Murmuring that ended in a groan when you raised yourself up his cock, then back down. Again and again, gradually building speed until you were fucking him relentlessly. You revealed in the way he lost himself in your body, that deep groan that he made each time he bottomed out. You savored every whimper whenever he couldn’t stop his hips from thrusting up, from burying himself deeper inside you along with every whine when your cunt clenched tightly around his cock.

He was getting close, you could tell from the way he trembled, his thrusts coming more frequently and with less coordination. You weren’t far from that edge yourself, felt your cunt clenching tightly around his cock as the coil wound tighter and tighter. Almost there… almost there…

“Gonna cum…” Matt panted out, one hand sliding between your bodies. “Please… can I…”

“Yes, yes,” you said. The touches to your clit were clumsy but it was enough. You could feel yourself falling over that edge and issued one final command, “Cum for me!”

And with a cry of your name, he did.

It took several moments for either of your bodies to stop moving. And even longer for your cunt to stop fluttering and his cock to stop twitching. You slumped against him, your head resting on his shoulder. You were breathing hard, covered in sweat, and certain that you couldn’t move your legs… but you also felt right.

Like, maybe, Matt had been right and that you were made for him…

Matt seemed to be having similar positive thoughts about being entwined with you, wrapping his arm around you and idly stroking one hand down your back. If your sweat bothered him, he gave no sign of it. Quite the opposite in fact as he nuzzled his nose against your neck and pressed kisses to that sensitive spot by your ear. An action that had your cunt clenching around his spent cock. He made a soft whimper but notably didn’t stop kissing your neck.

Or at least he didn’t immediately. After a few minutes it apparently tripped from pleasure to too much discomfort as he lifted your hips and let his dick slip out of you before settling you back on his lap. Your cunt wasn’t entirely pleased about this change.

He chuckled. “God, I love how your pussy never wants to let go of my dick.”

Your cheeks grew warm and you buried your face in his neck, feeling suddenly shy and uncertain. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Matt said. “Hey, look at me, sweetheart…”

With some reluctance, you lifted your head enough to see his face. He looked earnest, his voice soft but sincere. “Just said that I loved it, didn’t I? Trust me, sweetheart, if I could, I’d always be inside you.”

Feeling that flush spreading down your neck, you murmured, “Sounds nice.”

“It does, doesn’t it?” he said, flashing you a saucy grin. “But taking you to dinner would be trickier and I’d miss that.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he said, his hand sliding down your back to grab your ass. “Among other things that unfortunately require clothes… or perhaps fortunately. I’m not big on sharing you.”

“Don’t have to worry about that,” you said, then ducked your head and lowered your voice. “Not because of me anyway.”

Not low enough because Matt snorted. “Why not? You’re beautiful. And sexy. Any man turning his nose up at you is a fool.”

“Not sexy.”

“I promise that you are,” Matt said. “Because taking command like that? Riding me? Very sexy.”

“Really?” You said, peeking up at him through your eyelashes.

“Absolutely,” he said. “Took everything not to cum when you were grinding on me, touching me, using me…”

He shuddered and you felt his spent cock twitch, attempting to stir back to life. “Feel free to do that anytime you want.”

You buried your face again, then said softly, “Okay.”

You both rested in comfortable silence for a while before Matt sighed. “Probably should get up and clean ourselves up.”

“Don’t think I can,” you admitted. “My legs feel like noodles.”

Matt laughed.

“Hey! It’s not my fault that I didn’t go to ninja school!”

This only made him laugh harder as he transferred you from his lap to the couch. “Don’t worry, sweetheart, I’ll take care of you. How does a shower before bed sound?”

You considered. It was late. But you could also feel sweat drying on your skin which combined with other bodily fluids made the idea of crawling onto your brand new sheets  distasteful.

“Sounds great,” you said, staring at his naked body. Seeing his cock, still mostly soft against his thigh, gave you ideas…

“No.”

“No, what?” you said, looking up to his face.

“No to whatever you’re thinking right now,” Matt said, scooping you off the couch and carrying you to the bathroom.

“But I want to suck your dick,” you said, pouting a little. He ate you out all the time. You just wanted to return the favor.

“Another time,” Matt said, lowering you on the bathroom counter. His eyes are dark with growing hunger, hints of the Devil seeping into his voice. The combination only stirred renewed heat between your legs. “Because, right now, sweetheart-”

He cupped your breasts in his hands. “It’s my turn.”

Matt dragged his tongue across the areola of your left breast, sending a jolt of pleasure down your spine. That single jolt became a river as he licked and lapped at the spot, seeming determined to map every bump and curve as your nipple tightened back up into a stiff peak. Then he wrapped his lips around it and sucked. You cried out, arching your back to push more of your breast against his mouth. He indulged this unspoken request, opening his mouth wider and taking in more of your breast. His tongue continued to tease the nipple.

He didn’t neglect your other breast. His hand squeezed and kneaded the soft flesh before rolling your right nipple between those clever fingers, rubbing his thumb over the stiffening peak in a manner reminiscent of how he touched your clit. The pinching that followed gradually increased in intensity until it hurt a little. But it was good pain, one that sharpened the pleasure coursing through your veins.

Matt made a soft curious hum, then his teeth scraped across your nipple. It was barely a bite but it still made you writhe under him. He lifted his head just enough to release your nipple. “You like a little pain, don’t you?”

“Mhmmmm… yes,” you panted out. “Feels good. Do it again.”

“As you wish.”

It felt just as good the second time. Perhaps even better as Matt allowed his teeth to press in deeper, his fingers to pinch harder. Just a little more but it felt so damn good. So good that you thought you might orgasm purely from this attention to your breasts. Especially when he switched breasts and repeated everything he had done to their twin.

Close, you were so close but your release was still too far away. It didn’t take long for your to start begging, an endless litany of “Please, please, please-’

“What do you need, sweet girl?” Matt asked, mouth still so close that his breath puffing against your sensitive nipples made you whimper.

“Need to cum, please make me cum,” you begged, too desperate to be embarrassed by what you were saying.

“Well, since you asked so nicely,” Matt said, his voice all but purring. “How do you want to get off, sweetheart? On my fingers or my tongue?”

Both were tempting, very tempting. But then you remembered your dream from this morning or was it yesterday morning… It was unimportant. What mattered was the memory of his mouth. What happened was the desperate ache in your cunt. “Your tongue. I want your mouth.”

“As you wish.”

Matt wasted no time. The words were still leaving his mouth when his hand gripped your hips and pulled you over to the edge of the counter. He slid his hand down your thigh to pick up your leg and throw it over his shoulder as he sank down to his knees. Then his mouth was on you. He alternated freely between lapping at your entrance, long licks along your entire slit, teasing little licks to your swollen clit, and fucking you with his tongue. He moaned the entire time, the vibration of it only driving you further mad. You didn’t remember grabbing his hair but it was your hands and you were pulling on it. Your body shook as that coil inside wound tighter and tighter until, finally, it snapped. And you were screaming his name.

You both did eventually got cleaned up but only after he fucked you against your shower wall. You avoided confirming what time it was beyond stupid late. You were going to be so tired at work tomorrow.  Worth it, you thought, burrowing your face against Matt’s bare chest. Absolutely worth it.

[littlefireball]

ᴡʏ|ᴘᴏᴏʟ ꜱ*x (ᴍ)

ʙᴇꜱᴛ ꜰʀɪᴇɴᴅ ᴡᴏᴏʏᴏᴜɴɢ x ʙᴇꜱᴛ ꜰʀɪᴇɴᴅ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ꜱᴍᴜᴛ/ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ/ꜰʀɪᴇɴᴅꜱ ᴛᴏ ʟᴏᴠᴇʀꜱ/ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴜʀʙᴀᴛᴇ/ᴡᴏᴏʏᴏᴜɴɢ ʜᴀꜱ ᴡᴇᴛ ᴅʀᴇᴀᴍ ᴏꜰ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ/ᴜɴᴘʀᴏᴛᴇᴄᴛᴇᴅ ꜱᴇx/ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ᴏᴜᴛ

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 2.3ᴋ

"Fuck!Y/N!" Wooyoung mind was full of erotic fantasies: you panting underneath him, repeatedly calling out his name; your warm and moist wall enveloping his large cock and occasionally sucking his shaft, making him excited. "Fuck~~" Feeling himself about to climax, Wooyoung increased the speed of his right hand, and finally, with a shout, he came all over the tissue. He gasped for air, slowly calming down and throwing away the tissue.

He couldn't even count how many times he had masturbated today. Ever since you appeared in front of him, his sexual desire had been like a wildfire, ceaseless. You and he were just friends, but his feelings for you clearly went beyond friendship. You were so beautiful─your smile always touched people's hearts, your gentle eyes exuded kindness and warmth. He had liked you for a long time, but he never dared to confess, afraid that you didn't like him back.

-----

"Wooyoung, wanna hang out with us?" Yunho knocked on the door.

"No, I'm going to sleep. Don't know why I'm so tired."

"Okay, rest well."

"I knew he wouldn't come! If you had said Y/N was going out with us, he would have definitely come out." Despite San intentionally speaking softly, Wooyoung could hear him loud and clear.

"Shhhh!! Don't be that loud! He will hear us!" Seonghwa quickly reminded them to be quiet.

"Tsk... those guys..." Wooyoung ignored the others outside and fell asleep, gradually entering dreamland.

-----

"Fuck!! Wooyoung!! You are so big!!" His cock entered your vagina, and a warm sensation drove him crazy.

"Oh! Y/N! You feel so good!" He started thrusting, pushing deep inside, hitting your soft flesh.

"Ahh!! Wooyoung! I'm gonna cum!" The passion inside you burst forth at the sound of your lover's nickname...

"!!!" He woke up suddenly from the dream, sweating profusely. "Did I...!?" He wiped his forehead and sighed, noticing his slight erection. He had already cum several times, and yet he still remained unsatisfied.

"What's wrong with me?"

He shook his head helplessly, realizing that his sexual desire was particularly strong today. But he had no interest in masturbating anymore; he just wanted to sleep and extinguish the burning desire. However, the erotic thoughts in his mind kept driving away the sleep, making it impossible for him to fall asleep again.

"Fine. Just go swimming!" If sleeping wouldn't work, he decided to do some exercise to tire himself out and hopefully make those thoughts disappear.

-----

He dove into the water, his head slightly tilted back, legs moving in a continuous swimming motion, arms stroking powerfully in alternating movements. The cool pool water helped him calm down, and his tense body finally relaxed.

"Ah, I should have come swimming earlier!" He sat by the pool to rest, raising his head to look at the moon hanging high in the sky, the stars dotted in the night sky like a captivating painting.

Just as he was immersed in the moment, a voice pulled him back to reality.

"Wooyoung?" He quickly turned around and saw you walking towards him step by step. Even though you were dressed simply in a T-shirt and shorts, you were still enchanting in Wooyoung's eyes.

"Y...Y/N?" He stammered, feeling guilty as if he had been caught doing something wrong.

"Why do you look at me as if you've seen a ghost?"

You smiled with confusion, sitting by the pool and dipping your feet in the water.

"More frightening than a ghost..." He muttered under his breath, deliberately lowering his voice so you couldn't hear him.

"What?"

"Oh, nothing. By the way, why are you here? I thought you couldn't swim." He quickly changed the topic, lying down and pretending to be tired, afraid of you noticing his erection again.

"Can't sleep, so I decided to take a walk. I saw you when passing by the pool. How about you? Are you swimming so late at night?"

"Yeah, I can't sleep either, so I decided to come swimming."

"But there's no lifeguard now, right?"

"Shh!! Don't be so loud, it might cause trouble if we're found out!"

"Oh? So you sneaked in too?"

"Aren't you sneaking in as well?"

"But I don't swim." The two of you bantered like elementary school kids, the process was quite amusing, and the laughter echoed as if afraid that others couldn't hear it.

"I thought you would go out with Yunho and the others. Since we're here in the countryside for a rare vacation, shouldn't you go out and explore?" Wooyoung asked.

Yes, you and the four of them had come to the countryside for a vacation, enjoying the rare holidays.

"Aren't you also not going out with them?"

"I'm just tired."

"Oh? Do you get tired too? Aren't you the most energetic one?" Your joke made him blush and turn his head awkwardly.

"I...I'm going swimming, it's too cold lying down.

Watch him swimming gracefully and fluently. His body lines were soft and his muscles distinct, moving like a fish in the water. This made you unable to help but fall into his beauty. Like him, your insatiable desire ignited unconsciously.

"I look handsome, right?" His words brought you back to reality, and you blushed instantly, avoiding his gaze, not knowing how to respond.

"I noticed that you've been staring at me." He approached the pool again, revealing a charming smile.

"I...I...you're the only thing moving by the pool! Of course, I would naturally look at you!" He couldn't help but chuckle, your explanation was too cute. Embarrassed, you couldn't continue and decided to leave.

"Hey, where are you going?"

"To the room. I'm tired."

"Hey! Y/N- Watch out!"

As you hurriedly walked away, you lost your balance on the slippery ground and fell into the water. Your legs accidentally broke the water surface, creating a splash. You desperately tried to grab onto something around you but couldn't stabilize your body.

"Are you okay??" Wooyoung nervously helped you up.

"Cough- I was so scared." Out of nervousness and fear, you didn't hesitate to cling to Wooyoung's arms.

"Be careful next time, the ground is slippery."

"Hmm... my clothes are soaked, I have to change for a new set."

He unintentionally looked down at your wet upper body. Your chest pressed against his chest and your cleavage fully exposed. The wet white shirt clung to your skin, outlining your graceful curves, and even the sight of your bra was clear. Needless to say, his erect member pressed directly against your lower body, as if eagerly wanting to enter you.

"Fuck..." Wooyoung bit his lip, not knowing what to do, and tried to retract his hand from your waist, but touching your waist made him even more embarrassed.

You suddenly held onto his arms, not letting him go, and shyly bowed your head, softly saying, "Don't move...others might see..."

"Ah...I...you..." His thoughts couldn't function in the blurred mind, unable to form a complete sentence.

"And do you...need help too?" Wooyoung stared at your blushing cheeks, dumbfounded and unable to believe what he just heard. His eyes widened, his chin slightly dropped, and although he tried to close his mouth, his jaw naturally opened.

You didn't know where your confidence came from but didn't consider the possibility of him rejecting you outright and cutting ties with you as a loose woman.

Ah, you really are an idiot.

"Then how can you help me?" He tilted his head, his eyes teasing, and moved closer to you.

"Can I kiss you?" Ah, you've really gone crazy! How could you say something like that? Your mouth is always faster than your brain, blurting things out without thinking.

"I...I...am..." Just as you wanted to apologize, he unexpectedly kissed you.

You felt his soft lips gently cover yours, and a warm feeling surged in your heart. You couldn't help but open your lips, following his kiss. The two of you intertwined your tongues, your breaths overlapping, bringing an infinite sense of sweetness. His hands caressed your hair, stroking your cheeks, and then moved to your waist, creating an indescribable intimacy. Your hands slowly wrapped around his neck, drawing yourself closer to his body. You gradually became entangled, the kisses becoming deeper. The occasional bird chirps, the faint sound of the wind, gradually disappeared in their kiss, only the clear sound of your kissing lingering in your ears.

His hands moved along your waistline to the hem of your clothes, pulling it up. You followed his movements and raised your hands, letting him take off your T-shirt and casually throwing it on the shore.

"I've wanted this for so long."

"Me too." What? Did he really not mishear? An expression of disbelief appeared on his face again, and he couldn't help but kiss your lips. His hands caressed your back, and the cold touch gave you goosebumps but couldn't lower your body temperature.

"I want you, Wooyoung," you left his lips and whispered in his ear.

"But I don't have a condom."

"It's fine. I'll take the pill."

Your lips fiercely intertwined again, the passionate atmosphere evident in the fiery kiss. Your tongues entangled wildly, the kisses no longer gentle but filled with desire and fervor. He caressed your round buttocks, tracing circles along the lines, then moved to the waistband and pulled it down along with the underwear. Your lips momentarily parted from each other, and he lowered his swim trunks to his thighs, freeing his cock.

His size surprised you, the reddened and slightly purple glans still clearly visible on the water's surface. "Tell me if it hurts," you nodded in response, and he gently pressed against your lower body, easily sliding into your inner walls with the help of the water's flow.

"Fuck!! Wooyoung!! You are so big!!" The scene in his dreams came true: you were moaning underneath of him, calling out his name from time to time. When he thrusted, your mouth formed an 'O' shape, astonished by how amazing and well-fitted his size was for you. He lifted your legs to allow you to straddle his waist, fully adapting to each other.

"Please move, Young." Oh fuck! This turns him on harder. He thrusts forcefully, plunging deep with the assistance of the water's flow.

"Fuck! Wooyoung!!" He began thrusting. The speed wasn't fast or slow; the intensity was just right, not too strong to cause pain. The water followed his movements, occasionally splashing against the edge of the pool. You closed the distance between each other, the breaths spraying on your skin, the contrasting cold and hot sensations giving you goosebumps.

"Ah! Ah! Ah!" Your back arched, head resting against the edge of the pool, eyes tightly closed, feeling the satisfaction in your lower body.

"You feel so good, Y/N," he bent down, burying his head in your neck, licking away the dew on your skin, greedily inhaling your scent. His lips brushed against your neck, planting kisses on every inch of skin, occasionally nibbling and leaving crimson red marks. His cock hit your soft flesh without any error, causing your body to writhe with each thrust.

"Mmm~ Harder, please." Upon hearing your request, he braced his hands against the pool edge and began to accelerate and exert more force.

"Ah!! Fuck!!" His skin pressed against your buttocks, hitting without mercy. Your back collided with the cold wall, making a loud banging sound. You felt him penetrate deeper and deeper, the distance between the two of you getting narrower, and your legs bending more.

Your chests pressed tightly against each other, feeling each other's body temperature, breaths, and even hearing the pounding heartbeat clearly. With each deep penetration, you couldn't help but hold your breath.

"Ha! Ha! Emm-" You buried your head in his neck, eyes tightly closed, moaning softly. Unable to make loud noises, you could only make muffled sounds, but it was enough to excite Wooyoung.

Suddenly, he increased his speed, catching you off guard and causing you to moan loudly. "Ahh!! Fuck, Wooyoung!! Slow down!!"

"You don't want me to slow down, I know."

"Fuckkkk!!"

"Louder, my girl." You no longer cared if anyone heard, shouting loudly and clearly for anyone passing by to hear.

"Ah-!!" Wooyoung felt himself nearing climax, and his thrusts became sloppy and lost their rhythm.

"Fuck!" After both of you moaned loudly, you and Wooyoung reached climax together, and Wooyoung kissed your forehead before slowly pulling out of you.

"Was this okay for my first time?" Wooyoung eagerly anticipated your answer, his face filled with pride.

"Why are you so direct?" You lightly tapped his chest, shyly burying your face in his chest, pursing your lips, and softly said in his ear, "It was great."

He couldn't help but laugh out loud, his unrestrainable smile looking like that of a child, filled with pride.

"Let's go back? You must be cold." You nodded, and he kissed your lips again.

You both returned to the shore, and he thoughtfully wrapped towels around yourselves, holding onto your waist with one hand and embracing you tightly, intertwining your arms. He gathered his courage and decided to confess his feelings.

"Y/N? Can you be my girlfriend?" Upon hearing these long-awaited words, you couldn't contain your smile any longer, nodding vigorously.

"Yes."

He joyfully lifted you up and twirled you around, and you exclaimed in surprise. He put you back on the ground and pecked your cheek. Your arms wrapped around each other, deeply intertwined. Cheeks gently pressed against each other, the soft warmth and breath entwining, as if creating a small and safe island for the two of you. In this embrace, time seemed to stop, and the two of you became the entire world.

"I love you, Y/N."

"I love you more."

[khepiari]

Currently watching: Dead Boy Detective Agency!

I saw on twitter someone share that Yaoi would save Edwardian era repressed queer school boy!

Yaoi saved my world people, I am not even Edwardian schoolboy. I am last of 90s born millennial. You regular het people don’t understand. How starved I was for queer stories when I was a child and a dumb teenager. Because if I had seen more young queers going through this cocktail of angsty sexual awakening and confusion on screen, I wouldn’t have just followed my school senior like a lost puppy on my bicycle. I would’ve had actual words to pinpoint what I felt for her. 😪

Finding BL manga/anime and low budget Japanese BL tv series has been right of passage for many queer people like me. Yes many queers among them have vagina and no cocks, but BL has been that medium and gateway for so many of us to the realisation that we are not straight.

I am glad Neil Gaiman has been working hard to give us all sort of Queer love, because when I was growing up I needed my Nina and Maggie, I needed my Aziraphale and Crowley and I also needed Edwin and Charles. I am glad today’s kids will not be starved and unaware because heterosexuality was so overwhelmingly dictating their formative years.

[trippingontheescalator]

So, a post of mine has recently blown up, and I just want to say: it is 100% possible to both write a marauders era fic that is historically accurate and still be as gay and trans and nonbinary as anything that could possibly be written today. All of these things existed back then, people might have struggled to express it verbally without the terminology we have now, and they might have used to terms that were perfectly acceptable in times past but are now discouraged (example, transsexual vs transgender), but people of all kinds still existed. In fact, many of those people wrote books in the past, expressing a wide variety genders and sexualities.

You want some gay guys who get a happy ending (no "bury your gays" trope here!), try Maurice by E. M. Forster. Yeah, that E. M. Forster, of A Passage to India and A Room with a View fame. Originally written in 1913, it wasn't actually published until 1971 after Forster's death. It's about a rich aristocrat getting dicked down by his rugged gamekeeper.

You want some lesbians? Try Rubyfruit Jungle by Rita Mae Brown, published in 1973. Yeah, that Rita Mae Brown, who writes that series of cozy old lady cat mysteries like The Purrfect Murder and Murder, She Meowed. Wrote a semi-autobiographical coming of age novel about the 70s lesbian scene where her main character is just eating up that delicious rubyfruit.

You want some trans men? Try Metamorphoses by Ovid. Published 8 AD. Yep, some Roman guy was writing about trans men in year. fucking. 8. The particular poem in question is "Iphis and Ianthe" and Iphis is a man with a vagina, which is kind of problem because he's supposed to marry the beautiful Ianthe in the morning and Ianthe does not know about this vagina situation. So, Iphis prays to Isis, and the goddess Isis is like, "yeah, I can fix that" and gives him a dick.

If you want trans women... well, there's Myra Beckinridge and the sequel Myron by Gore Vidal, published in 1968 and 1974 respectively. But honestly it's kind of a fucked up and weird book, but then again Gore Vidal was a kind of fucked up bisexual himself with some terrible opinions. Look, not every one of these is going to age well. Myra Beckinridge was an important work that did a lot to subvert gender and sex norms. I would recommend reading a synopsis first to prepare for anything that might be triggering thought.

Fanfiction for a lot of people is a way to relax and enjoy a happier, brighter world, and if that's you then all the power to you. I sincerely hope you find the best fics out there to suit your needs. Not everyone likes historical realism, and not everyone wants to read about the uncomfortable realities of the past, and that is fine. I do. I like reading it, and I will close any fic that doesn't even try to attempt to remember the marauders era is set in the 70s. That's just my particular taste.

There's a paragraph in the novel The Female Man by Joanna Russ (1975 lesbian novel) where the author says farewell to her book and states:

"Live merrily, little daughter-book, even if I can't and we can't; recite yourself to all who will listen; stay hopeful and wise. Wash your face and take your place without a fuss in the Library of Congress, for all books end up there eventually, both little and big. Do not complain when at last you become quaint and old-fashioned, when you grow as outworn as the crinolines of a generation ago and are classed with Spicy Western Stories, Elsie Dinsmore, and The Son of the Sheik; do not mutter angrily to yourself when young persons read you to hrooch and hrch and guffaw, wondering what the dickens you were all about. Do not get glum when you are no longer understood, little book. Do not curse your fate. Do not reach up from readers' laps and punch the readers' noses.

Rejoice, little book!

For on that day, we will be free."

And Russ is stating that it is a good thing when books and movies become outdated and are seen as politically incorrect, like Myra Beckinridge, because this means that society has evolved. We know better now, or at least we know more than we did when it was written. And we are continuously striving to do better and be better and more accepting. Anyway, I don't know where I'm going with this except that I want more gay historically accurate 1970s snape fics, and I'm not going to apologize for that.

[dreamsofbroflovski]

Craig Tucker x Reader - sugar (c)rush - part 2

Also available on ao3! 𓆩♡𓆪 Link to Part 1

Summary: Craig Tucker's unwanted visit to the maid cafe leaves him in a sour mood, but the place might bring something that makes his life the sweetest it's ever been.

Warnings: Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content (everyone involved is above the age of consent), Fem!Reader, Smut, Penis In Vagina Sex, Mating Press, Dom/Sub Dynamics (Craig gets called 'Master'), Possibly OOC Craig Tucker, Arguing

A/N: aaaand here it is! the part damn near everyone who read this came for. i wish it hadn't gotten as long as it did, but it is what it is. if Craig sounds OOC I promise he's just whipped. reader will do that to ya

It took months for a day to happen that would change this groove you’d fallen into. Craig noticed the difference as soon as he arrived - he barely managed to hear the ringing of the door chime when he entered the shop, since it was drowned by the loud chattering and commotion inside. Apparently, on that specific afternoon, your workplace was having some type of different event with discounted menu items and limited-time meals he hadn’t cared much for, but now especially did, since it messed with his plans. Every single seat he saw was occupied, maids zipping through the commotion to serve multiple tables at once, a completely different atmosphere from how laid-back and hospitable he had learned to find the place to be when not as full. It made him uncomfortable, like he’d lost something familiar, but he pushed through it, holding onto what was left of the routine.

“My apologies, Craig, but (Y/N) is a little bit busy today,” one of your work colleagues told him as he settled into his usual spot, kept secure for him by a small sign on the table that said it was ‘reserved’. “But don’t worry, I’ll make sure your experience is as amazing as possible!”

“It’s alright.” He didn’t even look at her as he said it, pushing away the menu she was trying to hand him. “Just give me a black coffee then.”

She didn’t bother to write his order down on the tablet before leaving for the kitchen, and Craig sighed as he found himself alone again, mentally preparing for one of those days of boredom and annoyance that used to be commonplace when you weren’t his appointed maid. The table in the corner gave him a good view of the surroundings, and he spotted you with just one scan of his eyes, making small talk on a booth near the counter. Just as quickly, you found him - he caught your face turning as if it was magnetically drawn to that side, big eyes shining with gleeful surprise before you raised your hand and waved at him. He could’ve sworn your already present smile became a tiny bit bigger when you saw him, too; but he pushed the idea away as delusion, giving you a curt nod of acknowledgement and following you with his vision as you got back into movement.

He counted about four tables that you’d stopped by to take or deliver orders and chat with customers. Four different instances of his throat emitting a low rumble, like a growl, a direct voicing to the thoughts he had, watching as you directed your gentle affection to people he’d never seen before in all the days he came over. When he was around, it was a given that he’d have 100% of your attention, considering he’d pay for the company. That day, however, he had arrived too late for that - having to resign himself to watch and maybe internally pray that the movement would slow down so you’d exchange a few words with him, even if that was unlikely.

His coffee arrived and he ignored all the excited things your maid colleague had to say about it, waving her off with not many words, both him and her appearing extremely glad about the short duration of the interaction. Putting two sugar packets in the hot liquid and taking a sip, he frowned: still too bitter. The taste of the very first coffee he drank in the shop was still vivid in his mind, remembering it as overly sweet even without added sweetener; with the passage of time, however, it seemed to slowly become less and less so, shifting into the completely opposite end of the taste spectrum into ‘not ever nearly sweet enough’. As he opened a third packet, he made a mental note to get a word in with the kitchen staff later to see what had changed with the brand they were using or the preparation.

There was a conscious attempt on his part to not focus on you as much as he drank his coffee, trying to pay attention to other things until he’d eventually get too annoyed by the noise and leave - which was setting itself to happen earlier than usual, since the chatter was louder than ever due to the sheer amount of people inside. He was, however, keeping an ear out for any snippets of your voice, almost straining that particular body sense in the process.

When he did hear it again, it was in the middle of another sip of coffee, and he stopped with his lips still on the mug. It was barely audible, but he picked up on it with precision, his sight immediately flickering to where the sound came from, finding you a few meters away. You had your back to him, tending to a table with two guys in it, both with their heads turned to you.

“Like I said, I’m so very sorry, but I can’t sit with the masters this afternoon,” you said, and through the apologetic intonation, Craig caught a hint of discomfort that made him put down his mug and lean with his upper body in that direction, doing what he could to hear better. “The fee is not available today, we have so many wonderful customers and…”

“No no no, sweetie, you don’t understand,” one of the men spoke, “We don’t wanna pay no fee. We just want you to hang out a little.”

 The other dude nodded with a shit-eating grin, and the stoical male felt something run down his back - like he had just got an epidural injection of pure venom to the top of the spinal cord. He wasn’t at ease, and by the way he saw you shift your weight between your feet, swaying in place slightly, neither were you.

“I… I would love to, but that’s unfortunately not possible. However, if the masters would like to place an order now, I…”

“We’ll order if you sit here with us,” the second fellow interrupted your soft voice with his raspy barking, and Craig found himself wanting to be president so that he could make that particular action a crime. “Come ooon, darling…”

“I can’t, I really can’t…”

You were beginning to whine now. Craig glanced around quickly. Was no one paying attention to that interaction? All of the other maid workers were busy with their own clients, and your boss was nowhere to be found. The gnashing of his teeth inside his closed mouth felt way too loud when he was trying to pay attention to you, but he couldn’t help it, the building angry energy in his body needing somewhere to go to.

He looked back towards you just in time to see your head turn in another direction, hearing one of your other better tables calling to you for something. The swaying stopped, and Craig could almost feel the same relief you did to be free of that annoying situation.

“My apologies, dear masters, but another table is calling to me,” you said with more confidence this time, the whiny tone fading as you found your peace again. “I’ll give you a little more time to go through the menu and decide on your order and then I’ll be right back!”

“Hey, wait up! We’re not done talking to you!” The first man, the one closest to you, reached out from his seat just as you took a step backwards to make your exit, wrapping his hand around your arm and making you yelp. 

One might’ve thought Craig had developed teleportation abilities. Because before he himself had even noticed it, he was next to you and his own hand was on the guy’s wrist, holding it with twice the grip strength that other man’s hand had on your arm. His face did not denounce the pure anger that sparked under his skin like tons of needles urging him to violent action, and neither did his voice. But even through the deadpan expression, his eyes were still intense.

Both you and your disruptive client gasped in surprise, but Craig didn’t acknowledge either reaction. “Back off. She already said no.”

“Hey dude, what the fuck? Let go!” The other dude began trying to wriggle his wrist out of the oppressive grasp, releasing your own arm in the process - you stepped back again right after, eyes locked on the situation unfolding in front of you while frozen in fear. His own movements, however, came to no avail, as Craig stood almost perfectly still even when the harshest yanking threatened to swerve his body.

“Then apologize and let the maid leave.”

The second client came to his friend’s rescue and tried pulling at Craig’s free arm, and still he didn’t move, spreading his feet a bit on the wooden floor to have more stability. “Apologize for what? We aren’t doing anything wrong,” that man barked again.

“You’re harassing the employee,” Craig enunciated his words more firmly than usual, like the mere mention of the action offended him greatly. 

“They’re paid to hang out with us, dude,” the first guy scoffed, “Fuck you mean, ‘harassing’?”

“They’re paid to serve your orders. You’re not ordering.”

“We’re fucking clients here!” The second guy’s tone turned ironic, like he was trying to explain something to Craig as if he was five years old, and it made him want to bash those teeth so far into his throat he’d never be able to speak like that again. “They’re supposed to do what we ask! The customer is always right!”

“You need to pay for something to be considered a client. Right now, you’re just wasting a table.” And the attention of a great woman, he added mentally.

“It’s a maid café, dude,” Wow, what a precise observation, Craig thought over the voice of the dude. “These chicks are supposed to do what we say, it’s the whole point!”

“Well, that chick-” he pointed with his thumb over his shoulder towards you, feeling slight guilt over the tiny squeal you emitted as the spotlight was back on you, “-is not going to do what you say. So talk to her properly.”

“What are you, her boyfriend?” Another scoff. “She’s not gonna fuck you, dude. Leave it.” 

Craig consciously refused to recognize the way his stomach dropped with those statements. Sure, they were true. Your interest in him didn’t go far beyond the confines of his wallet, and it pained him to know it. But he’d be damned if that would be the reason he’d let another person speak to and about you like that.

He decided not to answer the guy’s comment directly, unwilling to draw this line of thought to the unwanted attention you were already receiving. “Apologize to her and leave her alone. The maids are busy.”

“Or what? What’s it to you?” Still being held in Craig’s grasp, the first guy stood up, his full height and build almost rivaling Craig’s own, but making up for the one or two inches of difference with his audacity. A chair scraped out of their view, the second dude standing up as well, clearly more out of moral obligation to defend his friend rather than actual courage. “You gonna do something about it?”

At this point, the whole shop had gone quiet, watching the commotion unfold. The all-female staff were all frozen in place, unable to step up and diffuse the situation physically but also incapable of looking away from it, and Craig couldn’t blame them at all. He also would’ve chosen not to engage in any other circumstance; it was admittedly none of his business. But even so, he still stood there proud, emboldened by a sort of bravery he had never felt before in his life. Maybe you weren’t his to protect, but he was still going to do it, using whatever he had - be it physical strength, intelligence or just the power of not giving a fuck - to make sure you were respected. 

“If you’re not ordering, then you gotta leave,” Craig declared, “Free the seats for someone else.”

“That’s not in the rules, dipshit.” So they did know the rules after all. “I’m not gonna fucking apologize to no one about asking for the service this place’s supposed to provide. So go back to your damn seat and shut the fuck up.”

The response to that didn’t come verbally. With a huff, Craig yanked at the arm of the guy he was arguing with, making him almost topple over the table if his free hand hadn’t held him on it. His friend scrambled to help, pushing at Craig’s other shoulder, but all that managed to accomplish was making his jacket drop a little off his arm. Maybe those sumo lessons he got in elementary school weren’t totally useless - he knew how to keep himself firmly in place, hardly budging under the other guys’ attempts at making him stagger.

A swing came from his side, missing his face by a bit as Craig took a step back, pulling his opponent with him. The chair the first guy was seated on fell when its occupant tripped on it, but it was barely heard over the angry shouts, the noise of his loud sneakers and the gasps of all the other customers when your protector took the nuisance away by the arm in long strides. For a guy that didn’t maintain a frequent workout routine, Craig was abnormally strong - the effects of his fight response were not to be underestimated.

“You had your fucking chance,” Craig growled as he walked, an acknowledgement of the offenses the other guy was spilling while being dragged away. “I’m not one of the maids, but I can clean up the place too.”

Reaching the door didn’t take long, considering the length of his legs and the fact that Craig cared very little if his opponent was walking properly or not. With another harsh yank of his arm, he shoved the man forward, finally letting go of him and bracing himself with his free hand on the wall by the door when the other dude, having followed behind, pathetically tried to push him as well. All bark and no bite, both of them.

Like a sack of trash being thrown into the garbage truck, the primary disruptive client fell through the doorway into the sidewalk in front of it, landing on his side with a harsh noise of his clothes rubbing on the stone. He might’ve scraped his arm, too, but the pride would certainly hurt more with being so casually discarded like he was. The second fellow, in his urge to help his buddy, lost his footing on the elevated step by the entrance, missing his balance completely and falling on his stomach not far from the first one, his outstretched hands doing little to brace him.

“You’re fucking fucked, dude!” Both guys stood up clumsily as one of them yelled, reaching out to each other for stability and almost falling on their asses again in the process. “We’re gonna call the cops on this place and then you’re done for!”

“Go on, you do that,” Craig retorted from the doorway, flexing his dominant hand, balling it into a fist then stretching his fingers out - though he had managed to come out on top in the strength display, there was still pain from the grip he had to keep. “Then they’re gonna have a bunch of witnesses to listen to about how you were disturbing the workers and breaking the rules of a private business.”

That mention seemed to have given the two men pause, their eyes flickering towards what little of the shop’s interior they could see from their position, just now realizing the amount of people inside who saw the whole ordeal. With huffs and muttered complaints, they left, trudging away from the shop without further action.

Barely any time was given for you and Craig to really process how tense the situation had been before you both felt the hands of your store’s owner holding heavily onto your shoulders and dragging you away from the main shop area into the cramped staff room at the back. Stepping into the much less cutely decorated space and taking in what little furniture it had - a few tall lockers for stashing personal belongings in, a sink and microwave on a countertop, and a table against the opposite wall with a couple chairs around it -, all he thought was that he was screwed. Just because the other bothersome client hadn’t called the police for his aggression, it didn’t mean you or your boss wouldn’t. In the best of cases, he’d be banned from the café after the scolding of a lifetime. And, honestly, it would all have been worth it if he could keep you safe from at least one creep.

However, none of that came to pass. The owner was, of course, distressed, the heavy makeup on her face doing little to hide the twenty or thirty years she had aged in just the span of that exchange. But then she apologized, both to you and to him - to you for not being able to keep you safe and not paying close enough attention to the situation amidst the crowd, and to him for putting him in harm’s way as well, adding that, considering his violent conduct happened in defense of the safety of one of her workers, she wouldn’t contact the police. She did clarify that this went against the norms of the café and he wasn’t to take advantage of it by picking fights with peaceful patrons, but even in that unneeded slap on the wrist, he noticed the mix of pride and appreciation for how he had stepped up to protect you. To top it off, she decided to waive his bill for the day as well, as an apology for his troubles and a personal thank you gift.

“And so, uh… Yeah, I guess that’s all,” the owner eventually concluded, rubbing her own temples to try and relax. “Craig, if you want, you can return to the shop. (Y/N), you can stay here for a while, calm down and-”

“Actually, I’d like to talk to Craig a bit.”

This was the first set of words that left your mouth ever since he got involved in the ordeal with the client, and it made his hazel eyes widen. What did you even have to discuss? Surely just some more gratitude. But it was the thought that you might want to interact with him alone, outside of the paid arrangement from your job, that had his brain flooding with curiosity.

Your boss’ expression shifted as she frowned slightly. “Are you sure, (Y/N)?” She asked, and Craig caught on to the hint of concern in her voice, attributing it to justified worry about your personal safety.

Through the corner of his eye, keeping his face turned to the front, he saw you nod emphatically. “Yeah… I’m sure.” You turned to him, and there was now true effort on his part not to glance in your direction. “If that’s alright with you, of course.”

The space of the staff room seemed to have gotten even smaller, claustrophobic to Craig’s heightened senses. Like any of his actions could be seen, heard, judged. “Yeah, that’s cool.” Thank God his voice didn’t fail him in that moment, keeping seriousness despite the nerves that were sneaking into him.

The owner’s gaze flickered between the two of you for another moment, lips pursing as if holding back something she wanted to say; but then she nodded as well, turning on her heels and leaving through the small door Craig had been forcing himself to stare at this whole time, closing it behind her back.

And then it was just you.

“I really don’t understand how you make any money here,” the man commented a few seconds after she left, “You keep giving people free stuff all the time.”

Still paying attention to you without looking like it, Craig expected you to laugh, as you tended to do whenever he had a snarky remark to make about something. A part of him was hoping for it, even, to hear your small giggling and the playful scolding that usually followed. But you didn’t. He turned to you just in time to catch as you took the few steps towards him with a decided expression, wrapping your arms tight around him and planting your face in his chest.

His whole body instantly became taut against yours. What the fuck? This was a complete burst of his personal space bubble, way more physical contact than the two of you ever had, which was usually limited to small touches to his arm or hand during your conversations at his table. It was against the rules of your workplace, for sure, and he had an urge to scan the corners of the room and check for cameras - both for surveillance, terrified of the notion that someone might see it and get the wrong idea, and to confirm that he wasn’t in a comedy reality show and it was not a joke -, but the shock held him from doing even that. You had hugged him first. You were holding him close, he felt the front of your body pressing against his, he was not paying for this endeavor.

A couple seconds passed like this, Craig staying put as if expecting you to notice what you had done and pull away terrified. You didn’t. And this gave him the tiniest sliver of courage to slowly embrace you back. His hold wasn’t as tight as yours, still held back by lingering unease over too much unexpected physical touch, but it was there, an attempt at giving you the comfort you so clearly needed yet he didn’t know how to provide.

Him finally reciprocating your hug triggered your speech, making his breath hitch as you finally spoke. “Thank you so much.” Your voice was muffled by the fabric of his shirt, but the emotion in it was very much audible, that gratitude he already expected mixed with the remaining tension from earlier, relief and something else he didn’t quite get. “Thank you, thank you, thank you…”

“It’s alright,” he responded, turning his face to the ceiling; if he’d look down and see you there so close to him, he might not be able to keep his cool. Although he knew he had none to keep - your nose was probably vibrating from the thumping of his heart on his chest.

“I don’t know what I would’ve done if you weren’t there,” you continued, almost like you didn’t hear what he’d said. “You saved me, Craig.”

That simple sentence got to his head in a way he didn’t even know was possible. He never even knew his ego could inflate like that. Is this what Clyde wakes up like every day? “I did what anyone else should do, it’s no big deal.”

You shook your head, making small ruffling noises against his clothes. “Of course it’s a big deal… You didn’t have to do all that. But you did.”

“Like I said, it’s alright. You don’t have to thank me.”

First time ever that he cursed his dry delivery of words - he wanted to sound more reassuring, approachable as you were, but instead it just came off assholish like everything else he said. You didn’t complain, though, which he considered a win. Instead, your arms tightened even more around him, squeezing him briefly. “You could’ve gotten hurt, and then what would I do?”

This made the stoical male frown to himself, his brain getting momentarily confused at what you could possibly mean by that. “Maybe you’d have to call an ambulance,” he began explaining, taking the sentence literally. “They’d take me away, the cops would deal with the other guys, you’d have to testify and-”

“What?” 

Your interruption sounded as confused as Craig’s own thoughts were, and not muffled anymore. He tilted his face down toward you, frown disappearing from it when he saw that your own face was lifted up. “I’m explaining what you would’ve done if I got hurt.”

“Huh? Oh, I’m not talking about that…” 

You let go of him, taking a small step back, and he was pissed at himself for missing your hold as much as he did immediately after that. Watching as you focused on the ground, placing your hands tamely in front of your body, it then dawned on him that maybe he was the one misunderstanding the situation. Another one of those logic versus emotion things he had a hard time grasping.

“I was worried about you,” you said, “I care about you. I didn’t want to see you hurt.”

Hearing this, Craig crossed his arms. Had he left them at his sides, he would’ve risked them moving on their own to pull you into another hug - those sentences mirrored perfectly how he felt towards you, a slice of the feelings that had driven him to involve himself in that altercation earlier. But it was also a way of keeping himself guarded, impassive and looking the part. You ‘cared’ about anyone who came to the café. You ‘cared’ for him as long as he continued buying. The moment his foot touched the first stone of the pavement, you didn’t anymore.

“You don’t have to worry about me.” He internally wished you actually would. “I’m just a client. There’s more than a dozen of those out by the shop.”

Just as quickly as your face had lowered, it was lifted again - and this time you appeared aghast, almost as much as you had when he stepped up to defend you earlier. 

“Don’t talk like that!” His usual expressionless face shifted into surprise at the scolding tone you were trying to use - you couldn’t be harsh for the life of you, so what came out was more like a pained plea, but your smaller frame was all tense. “You’re not just a client to me!”

Craig took a deep breath, trying to tackle his drumming heart that insisted on taking your words and running with them. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust you, or that he didn’t at least want to; he literally wasn’t supposed to. “That’s exactly what I am.” He affirmed, more to himself than to you. Nothing more.

He heard your breathing too, softer than his, more of a sigh. Oh how he had let his mind wander during the table meetups, one side of his brain listening to what you had to say while the other imagined in what other situations you’d make noises like those. Sexual or not. Though none of those imaginations involved it coming with a hint of sadness while he squished his own feelings by standing firm behind the client-server wall he needed to maintain.

“You’re… more than that to me.” Your voice had dropped in volume, body still tense. “I like you, Craig. Like, really like you.”

What fucking wall now?

It was his turn to go tense, shoulders squaring up as the words hit him like a wrecking ball. Shit, maybe he did really get in a fight and the other guy bashed his damn head in. Only like that you’d be telling him such a thing. There was no other way to interpret your statement, no way for him to rationalize it into a different context, consciously or not. You said what you said.

“You do?” His eyebrows arched the slightest bit, arms slowly uncrossing and dropping back to his sides. “How?”

Your head tilted a bit, hands moving to clutch your own chest. The shift in body language showed him that you were legitimately anxious about the declaration, and about his reaction to it. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, this doesn’t make sense,” Craig continued, “I’m your regular. You can’t like me; You don’t know me like that. It’s not allowed.”

“Why?” Your voice got thinner again, as it usually did when you got nervous. ”Of course it is! I know you, I hang out with you all the time!”

“Because you’re paid to do that,” he insisted, becoming increasingly frayed over your prolonged assertions. “I pay the fee and you hang out with me. Those are the rules.”

“You haven’t had to pay for that in weeks!” There was a slight giggle accompanying your words now, those beautiful big eyes crinkling at the corners in amusement.

He’d have cussed you out for making fun of him, if he wasn’t so wrapped up in what you were actually saying. The behavior he had adopted regarding his spending at the café - that of not paying attention to it at all and just trusting blindly that everything was inside of his budget - was maybe the most jarring difference to his normal habits, no matter how much he tried to paint over it with claims of ‘supporting local businesses’. But only now did he realize that maybe his credit card statements had been a bit too easy on him.

“No way.” He brought his hands to your shoulders and squeezed a bit, not enough to hurt, just wanting to ground himself on something as he processed the information - or rather, the proof. “So you’ve just been hanging out with me for free?”

You shook your head. “It’s actually coming out of my paycheck.” The small giggle faded as you acknowledged that he was taking you seriously, but a timid smile lingered.

Anyone more honorable would’ve scolded you for basically paying to work, maybe even tried to give you back the money owed. But the truth was Craig didn’t give a fuck. He was too hung up on the fact that you did, in fact, hang out with him willingly, to the point where it was becoming detrimental to your own wallet. The fondness in your words and actions hadn’t been imaginary.

Not quite ready to look at you directly as he processed the information, he tried lowering his gaze a bit, but almost fully flinched when it stopped on your chest - and out of nowhere the wooden floorboards became interesting enough to stare at intently. His fingers twitched on your shoulders, itching to touch any part of your actual skin.

“Damn,” he muttered, “Since when?”

“I… I don’t know.” Hearing movement, Craig raised his eyes, seeing you bashfully playing with one of the strands of hair closest to your face, thinking he wasn’t looking. Another habit he’d grown to love. “I guess since the first day you came back. That time you told me I should be myself was awful, but...”

“You are yourself,” he interfered, straightening up and staring at you head-on. “You’ve always been yourself. And I like that. I like you.”

Those words should’ve been harder to say, and maybe they would’ve, if your confession hadn’t come first. But Craig found them as easy as saying ‘good morning’ - partly because he had no qualms about speaking his mind, ever, but also because he had waited with them on the tip of his tongue for almost as much time as you had. And time he now had to make up for; slowly, he leaned closer, giving you several moments to pull away before his lips met yours.

Holy hell. Despite being the one who initiated, it took him a moment to process that he was actually kissing you. Your lips were like the softest velvet possible against his and tasted like candy - he didn’t even know lip products could taste like anything, but now yours might’ve even become a new standard in kissing for him, one he wasn’t sure could be reached anywhere else. Seeking further closeness, he brought one of his hands to the back of your head, tilting it so your mouth could fit as perfectly as possible against his, not that it needed any help. The other hand drifted from your shoulder down your arm, catching your own and intertwining your fingers.

It was supposed to be a gentle kiss, just to test it all out, give him something to expect when he inevitably asked you out on a date later and exchanged numbers. But when your free hand grabbed hesitantly at the front of his jacket, as if you didn’t quite know where to put it, he found it impossible to part; you were too adorable for your own good, and he could sense your interest under the layer of shyness. So he got you even closer, tugging at your other hand with his and using it as leverage to draw you flush against him once more, deepening the kiss with a quiet moan.

Time seemed to slow down, incapable of catching up to Craig’s sped up heart rate. The silence in the room, the taste of your mouth, and having you in closer proximity than he’d ever had - those all contributed to him letting go of thought and not even noticing how uncomfortable it was getting with the rising warmth on his body as he lost himself more and more in the moment. But there was no denying it once you pulled back for air and he opened his eyes just in time to see the trail of saliva that was left connecting your mouths break. Then the heat in his lower abdomen hit him like a truck, and he was fully alert in the same second.

Look, at the end of the day, Craig was only a guy and operated accordingly. He was not above feeling arousal, and definitely not immune to the effects the maid outfit and your general cuteness had on his person. It was easy to pretend everything was fine in public, with multiple distractions, but alone with you and interacting directly, there was nothing to keep him from being engulfed in desire. Years of evolution had probably hard-wired his brain to being attracted to this type of submissive behavior and wanting to have it for himself. Darwin or some other badass scientist probably explained it better than he would.

The stoical male wasn’t going to tell you outright, not if he could avoid it. It was better to just let you get back to work, take care of himself in the bathroom and talk to you later as if nothing was amiss. But you stepped back before he was able to do anything, and the tent at the front of his jeans - which he’d just barely managed to ignore thus far due to it having been concealed by your skirt, the petticoat underneath providing an extra puffy layer that shielded you from having to feel any of it - was subjected to your full view straight away.

Silence fell in the small staff room, your gaze locking down onto the bulge of his crotch in a way that almost made Craig even more aroused. Maybe he had no right to stay near you after that, but simultaneously he felt rooted in place, incapacitated from leaving. The secret third option was turning his face away, but keeping sight of you on his peripheral vision as you took your time analyzing him.

“Oh… Oh wow.”

There was surprise in your voice, but he was relieved to notice it was the good kind. You hadn’t run away, you didn’t scream - despite the sudden development, you didn’t appear uneasy. Fascination kept you focused, and though his reaction was to just stand still and let you do so, he was inwardly preening himself at the fact that his arousal had drawn your attention like that, the awkward situation notwithstanding.

“Craig…” You called out softly, a flush forming on your cheeks and ears. “Can I… Touch it?”

This had to be a tease. No way you were this naive about what you did to him with stuff like that. And, in the off-chance you really were, then that would make it all just more satisfying when you did find out. “You can do more than touch,” he responded, not bothering anymore with the common sense that told him to at least fake being embarrassed. “But you really should head back now.”

“But I don’t wanna. I wanna stay here, with you… And…”

Agonizingly slowly for Craig, one of your hands reached out towards his crotch - just brushing against the denim of his pants at first, before you grew bolder and palmed it fully. Your touch was extra gentle, barely stimulating, but it still made him grunt and his dick twitch inside of his boxers.

His head snapped towards the break room’s door, almost as if expecting the whole staff to barge in at that very moment. “Your boss is gonna realize you are missing. She’s gonna come looking.”

“I… Don’t think so.” You covered your mouth with your other hand as you giggled, and Craig had to hold firmly onto the subject in his mind to not get fully distracted between that and your touch. “She knows I like you. I don’t think she’s gonna bother us…”

Craig’s eyebrows arched, and he turned his face to you again. As if made shy by his eye contact, you pulled your hand away, but he didn’t care about that anymore. If he was allowed to have his way, which appeared to be the case, both of you would be feeling much better soon enough. “You told her you liked a client?

The smallest smirk curved the edge of his lips when he saw you becoming even redder in the face. “Well… Sorta…” Your response came lower in volume, like confessing to a terrible secret, even though it was nothing major and you had been so willing to say it just a few seconds prior. “The staff here’s pretty close, they saw us talking a lot and… Yeah.”

“Huh.” Now it made sense. The weird behavior of the boss when you said you wanted to speak with him. She had known what was up and just wanted to confirm that you were comfortable going for it. “Well, then.”

That was going to be a talk he’d have with you some other moment; how long had he spent being the only clueless one in the room about your interest in him, the subject of lunch hour talks and giggling whispers in the corners from the other maids who saw you two talking? But for now, he had more important matters. Claiming your lips with more intensity this time and grabbing your waist, giving you just enough time to wrap your arms around his body, Craig walked you backwards the couple steps towards the other wall - lifting you up onto the table as soon as your ass hit the edge of it, with the same ease and strength he would’ve used to fight on the coffee shop space earlier if needed. 

He settled nicely between your legs, and only took his mouth off of yours to bring his nose to the crook of your neck. His grip on your waist instantly tightened. There it was, the scent that always followed him home and accompanied him most hours of his day for weeks on end now. Like the sweetest strawberry; one he’d never eaten before, but still had gotten ingrained into his taste buds, making him always chase that same flavor like an addict. You were pure candy, better than anything they served at the café, and he had a mad sugar craving.

Avoiding the ruffle choker you wore as part of your uniform, his tongue found your skin, licking a messy stripe from your neck to your ear; lips closing around your earlobe, sucking on it with barely held back enthusiasm. The way you squirmed and trembled under his touch, letting out a shaky sigh and tilting your head to the side to give him more room, had him wanting to just pin you down and keep doing just that, prompting those adorable reactions over and over.

His cock, however, had other plans. Instinctively, Craig had started rutting lightly against the table, seeking any form of contact to sate the need he was in. It wasn’t nearly enough. Only by feeling you for real would he be at peace, and he wasn’t settling for ‘the next best thing’ anymore, like he was when he kept telling himself just being your customer was fine. His breathing was harsh as he pulled back just enough to rest his forehead against yours, the scent of your perfume still enveloping his brain like a pastel pink fog of passion.

“You want this, right?” He grunted, holding onto a scrap of sanity to make sure you were into it. “I won’t be able to stop later.”

You nodded desperately,  gasping like the mere mention of the concept jolted your core. He didn’t even have to touch you - only by the way you responded, with utter need, he was able to tell that you wanted him just as bad. “Please, Craig… I-” 

“Call me ‘Master.’”

Just as the words left his mouth, he knew he had lost his marbles completely. In absolutely no world would he have made such a request had he been in his right mind. But he couldn’t bring himself to not make it. 

Your eyes widened. “But you told me-”

“What I told you does not matter right now.” The fierceness with which he stated that made you gasp in surprise, a reaction that he clearly picked up on, as the next part came out lower and softer. “Please.”

After holding his gaze for another moment, as if expecting him to pull back on the request, you spoke again. “Okay... Master.”

Your voice was meek and uncertain, barely dipping your toes in that water, possibly waiting for the moment where he’d remember just how much he ‘hated’ - did he now? - being called that, braced for the scolding. Yet there was nothing that had felt more right for him as this did in that moment. The simple term lifted him to the top of the world, making his brain go feral with thoughts of dominating you, taking with delight everything that you were so willing to give, then handing it right back to you just to prove how correct you were in surrendering your body and your mind to him. Restraint was definitely not a factor anymore, and though it was out of his element, it felt fucking fantastic.

Even though he was the one that just got called Master, he’d get on his knees and hand you the universe on a silver platter if you asked.

“That’s right.” The way his voice shifted into a more hoarse version of itself denounced how much it all had affected him. “Good girl.”

Ah, your fucking whimper that followed. Never had he heard a more perfect sound. It spoke volumes of your need to please, proving that it wasn’t just an act you’d put on upon request. That was all want.

Craig didn’t make another request as he let go of you to undo his belt and the buttons of his currently way too tight pants, leaving you waiting with bated breath. However, as soon as your hands moved towards your own back, attempting to reach the tied strings of your apron and the zipper of your dress, your dominant arm was under his grasp - not enough to hurt, but plenty to warn.

“Leave it on,” he commanded, the thumb on his free hand hooked on his own waistband. “It’s fucking hot.”

Immediately your hands were back on your lap as if they’d never left the spot, such speed pleasing Craig immensely, even if he only showed it through a hum and a smirk. You were truly created to serve, and he was created to order. And fuck, did it feel good to not have to pretend that uniform of yours wasn’t sexy as hell. It had been hard, respecting it as just workwear while continuously inspiring images of what it would look like in all his favorite positions. But now he was the one that got to bestow it new meaning, since you also didn’t seem particularly attached to its meaning as job apparel.

He pulled down his jeans and boxers just enough to free himself, sensing the monster of pride inside him - which was usually lazily resting, due to not caring much what others actually thought of him or his qualities - roaring with satisfaction as you moaned quietly upon seeing his member, noticeably satisfied with the view. Your thighs pressed together more, rubbing instinctively, and he knew you were just trying to ease your own ache; but you had so easily submitted to his desires, he saw it as unacceptable that you’d get release from anything that wasn’t him. One of his hands pushed your chest firmly but gently, lowering your back towards the table, while the other brought your thighs away from each other and lifted up the front of your skirt, letting layers of dress, apron and petticoat bunch at your hips.

There wasn’t any teasing as he pulled your panties down and took them off you, and also no need for that anyway; the fabric had turned basically see-through by the point he got to it, your folds slick with glistening anticipation. Seeing you spread and dripping made him think that covering his head with those layers of your skirt and dying of heat stroke while eating you out would not be a bad way to go. He was positive you’d taste like candy, just like everything else that surrounded you, and lapping up your honey would consolidate the huge sweet tooth he’d apparently developed the last couple of weeks: he wouldn't be able to put another savory thing in his mouth ever again. But he didn’t have all that time - you were still on work hours after all, and though he didn’t give a fuck what was happening to your clients out at the café, he didn’t want you to be scolded or listen to any stupid complaints.

It was with that in mind that he shoved your panties into his back pocket and grabbed your waist again, dragging your now laid-down body closer to his own hips. As your legs lifted, crossing loosely around his waist, he took care of lining himself up with your entrance, dragging his angry tip up and down your slit, accompanying your mewls of pleasure with his own groans whenever it would brush against your clit. You were so goddamn responsive to even his smallest actions, it was unbelievable.

When Craig risked a glance at your flushed face again, all he saw were expectant wide eyes trying to watch where you two were about to meet - and quite failing to do so due to the barrier of bunched up fabric. Although it made him quite smug to know you were so interested in watching his cock, it was a waste of your precious gaze if you couldn’t look at anything. 

“You don’t have to watch. You’re gonna feel it.” His voice made you look up at his face again, and just then he put his cock against your entrance, breaching into your tight heat with a thrust that made you gasp in surprise despite how slow it had been. His own eyes shut, focusing on the sensation for a moment, and fuck was it amazing. He’d never felt so utterly enveloped, your warmth embracing his member with just the right amount of tightness, and by the way you clenched even more around him when he bottomed out after a bit, no doubt you were feeling just as amazing.

“I told you.” Craig spoke again, rough with desire, daring to open one eye to peek at your adorable face. He hadn’t even moved, and you already had half-lidded eyes and parted lips. How would you look when he effectively put you through it? “Don’t worry. I’ll make sure you feel everything you need to feel.”

“Y-yes, yes… I trust you, master…” You nodded once, resolute despite the nerves that seemed to prickle right at your skin - which Craig knocked right out of you as his cock started to move inside your cunt, his hips setting a steady pace right away. He didn’t have the patience to drag anything out, not if you were going to keep calling him that word.

“Good girl… Good girl,” he murmured like a prayer, an encouragement for you to keep talking, to fuel his ego even more. He had delved into an uncharted zone - although he was pretty decent at thinking only about himself, he’d never valued himself as highly as he did in that moment, never felt like such a realized man.

And as this man he felt like, he wanted more. Whatever he could get. Planting his palms under your thighs, he pushed them up until your knees hit your chest, folding you up unceremoniously. He heard you squealing, but didn’t budge - because your hands quickly found the back of your knees and held them in their spread, letting your legs rest on his shoulders, keeping the position without a single complaint. He wished he could photograph that perfect vision to forever have the image of you open and taking him with unabashed eagerness, but his own memory would have to suffice. 

“Fuck, you’re flexible,” he commented distractedly while he drove himself into you harder and faster, placing his hands at your sides on the table and leaning more over it to hit even deeper, chasing the limits of what the sudden mating press would allow him. 

“Only- Only the best for my ma- master,” you stammered over your words in response, gasping and whining as he repeatedly hit that spot inside of you which made you goddamn stupid. A beautiful kind of stupid, one which Craig hadn’t known existed until then.

“Mmph… That’s what I wanna see,” he rasped, leaning with his upper body towards you even more until his face was hovering over yours. His lips trembled with the urge to kiss you, but the interest in hearing your moaning took precedence. “And you’re gonna always be the best for me, right?”

Whatever answer you had to verbally give, it got swept away by the quick breaths that left your mouth. It was sufficient feedback for him, though.

The table began to slam against the wall with each thrust, and the stoical male thanked its sturdy material, otherwise you’d both soon be sent crashing down to the floor with how rough he was getting. But the noise it made with the constant hitting did not grace his ears; all that did were the wet sounds of your cunt as he pounded into it relentlessly and your sweet little moans that spilled freely. Both of you were hanging onto hope that the noise outside would cover your actions, but the setting was long forgotten, anything outside of that tiny room ceasing to exist.

Each of your whimpers brought him closer to the brink. You’d talked to him in nothing but softness the whole time he knew you, and yet now he knew just how lewd you could get. How lewd he could make you get. And that was when he regretted his rush to get to this moment, because now that he had it, he couldn’t ever savor it enough.

“Aaaaah… Craig, I-” His actual name slipped out of your vocal cords before you could reel it in, and you slapped your mouth with your hand, tensing up even more with the worry of having messed up when you were so close to release. But at this point he didn’t care; any word you used to call him sounded heavenly in your voice anyway, and he wasn’t in any condition to punish you when he was also struggling to hold back.

“Speak up…” One of his hands moved to your wrist, pulling your palm away from your face and stopping it from muffling your words.

“Ngh… Master, I need to cum,” you whined, visibly relaxing - but not by much, considering the need that made your muscles taut - with his overlooking of your mistake.”Can I- aah- can I c-cum for you? Please?”

His fingers tightened around your wrist as he nodded firmly. “Do it,” he grunted, and right after the last letter left his lips you were clenching impossibly around him, a true high-pitched scream of pleasure tearing your throat when you gave him the most beautiful form of surrender. Your legs flailed against his shoulders, but he paid it no mind: his attention was on your expression, watching through half-lidded eyes as your own rolled back and your jaw went slack.

Craig had no idea how he found the self-control to do what he did next. When your cunt tightened even more around him, being already on edge, he’d surely be a goner - but he managed to pull out at the last moment, a move that he patted himself on the back for during the whole ride home after your encounter. Throwing his head back with a prolonged moan, he took himself in his hand and aimed towards your body as he came, spilling sticky white jets directly onto your apron.

A moment was needed after that, him letting go of his cock and hovering over you again with his hands on the table while you just laid there, both of your heavy breaths the only thing audible in the small staff room. You just stared at each other for what seemed like forever, your own slowly refocusing eyes capturing the perfect moment where rational thinking graced the man’s mind again and he looked down to see his seed splattered on your work clothes.

“Oops,” he murmured, still not all that sound with his thoughts, “Sorry…”

“It’s… It’s alright…” You responded with your voice still small and trembling, making a random movement of dismissal with your hand.

He knew it actually wasn’t. If you didn’t wash it off as soon as possible, it risked staining, and the whiteness of the apron’s fabric would not be able to camouflage it at all. But, like for many other things, he didn’t care. In fact, it was thrilling to think about: to send you off back into work with that marking of what had transpired clear on your uniform, so you’d go and serve all those customers - however unhygienic that would be - and call them ‘masters’ without being able to hide the stamp of who really owned you.

Finding strength in his body again, he took his cock out of you and settled it back into his underwear, the light rustling of the denim and clinking of the belt as he buttoned his pants being overshadowed by the shuffle of your skirt as you sat back up on the table, legs dropping to dangle at the edge of it.

When he was fully decent and brought his attention back to you, it was obvious that you were nervous. Your feet were kicking the air by his sides, that adorable face still flush from shyness and lingering arousal, and you were looking down with your hands folded over your lap, carefully avoiding the still sticky residue on your clothes. Not a peep came from you, not that he expected it. Getting in your head about what that meant for the both of you, if he had to guess. Fucking a customer in your place of work wasn’t peak relationship starting conduct.

Craig, however, had no nervousness to feel. For him, there was nothing to mull over. He wasn’t used to the whole romance thing, which showed in how he acted, but for you he felt he was willing to try, even if it proved difficult. He had decided.

But he had to soothe your concerns somehow, even if he didn’t share them. So he brought his lips to the top of your head, pressing them against your hair; not forcing you to look up, and also catching a whiff of your delightful shampoo in the process.

“You really have to go now. I’ll stick around. See you when your shift is done,” he said as he pulled away.

It wasn’t a suggestion.

You finally looked up at him and it made his heart feel floaty. Lips slightly parted and swollen from all his kisses, doe eyes gleaming with hope and relief, the beginnings of what could be tears of joy forming - made him want to disregard the last statement and just whisk you away someplace nicer right then. Damn you, responsibilities.

Still it took a moment for you to gasp and blink frantically, as if caught off-guard noticing the distraction caused by how happy you were feeling. When you looked at him properly again, there was that smile Craig had learned to associate with himself.

“Yes, master.”

Dividers by @cafekitsune

[moonsglare]

uhhh tw. biology rambling about avian reproduction and speculation on tengu physiology utc

bird reproductive system overview

so from what i've gathered the cloaca (also known as a vent) of female birds specifically isn't all too dissimilar in function or general structure to the vagina in placental mammals EXCEPT for the fact that cloacas in birds are multiple use in the sense that it's used for reproduction (egg laying in females), excretion and defecation. the cloaca is connected to the oviduct which is connected to the ovary, again similar to regular human/placental mammal biology.

(really interesting how so many different multicellular organisms share the same "format", as it were.)

tengu biology speculation

internal organs & reproductive/excretory system -> for no other reasons beyond personal all i'd really change is just separating the waste line from the reproductive line. the waste line can still be a singular line with no urine/feces distinction given that birds naturally just expel them together (also interesting new thing learned today was that bird 'urine' consists of uric acid as opposed to urea, hence the white colour).

diet -> not too different from humans, but tengu would likely have a far higher calcium intake than regular humans for healthy egg production. female tengu still produce and need to lay an egg once a year (average for crows), and the lack of calcium can result in eggbinding which can be fatal. tengu can get their extra calcium by snacking on seeds, drinking milk, or eating certain fruits and vegetables. this is going into cultural territory but i think it'd be possible for tengu to have some unique high-calcium dishes incorporating bones or snail shells. rip kjsr though she probably doesn't know these exist

how would sex even work -> so a vast majority of birds copulate via what's called a 'cloacal kiss'. the easiest way to put this is that they kinda just scissor (touch cloacas) and that's how the sperm from the male is transferred to the female, given that males in this scenario do not have an external sex organ (dickless). for the bird species that DO keep their dicks, copulation is pretty much straightforward from what i've gathered in (insertion, insemination, etc.). however, crows are not part of the bird species that still have phalluses so they copulate via cloaca. interestingly this could mean f/f, m/f, and m/m sex between tengu in theory shouldn't be too different from each other beyond the lack/presence of sperm production. (maybe there's something to be gleaned here about tengu society as a result but i don't think i'm knowledgeable enough on sex and gender and its interactions and effects on society as a whole to comment on it. but it could also be interesting!). penetrative sex would still be possible for tengu, but it would probably take a lot of prep work and building up to, especially if involving any kind of phallus as opposed to fingering. i couldn't really find any concrete yes/no info on 1) if birds have the capacity to self-lubricate when aroused or 2) if birds (or in a broader sense, animals) can experience an orgasm. but for the sake of Fun and Whimsy and Horny i have decided the answer to both questions as they pertain to tengu is yes. the only major L for female tengu is that they don't have a clit (at least, externally) as it is something female birds lack, although the early-development phallus seen in most female vertebrates are seen in female birds, however they are not present or at least, identifiable in adulthood. so in theory i could argue that female tengu maybe have something like an 'internal clitoris', which could function as a g-spot equivalent, making penetrative sex for tengu a little more desirable.

eggs? -> generally speaking bird egg sizes are proportional to the size of the bird itself (with exceptions, re: the kiwi). i couldn't find an exact catch-all number so i'm gonna have to do some really sketchy math. the large billed crow (native to east asia) has an average mass between 400g-1000g, the midpoint being 700g. the average mass of an egg from what i could find is 11.8g. therefore on average the egg is 1.68% of the crow's body mass [(11.8/700)*100=1.68%]. in specifically kjsr's case since i hc her as 6ft the average mass of a 6ft human female is 68-73kg, so i'll take 70.5kg as a midpoint. therefore kjsr's egg would be 1.68% of 70.5kg which is a surprisingly small (relative to the average human baby) mass of only 1.18kg. the average crow egg size is 3.68cm x 2.67cm, and the average length is 52.5cm. using these numbers you can calculate out the dimensions of the egg itself using ratios and proportions which measure up to be a 12.8cm x 9cm egg. i'd like to note however that these are all just averages taken from midpoints, therefore an egg can be larger or smaller than this base measurement (12.8cm x 9cm, 1.18kg). however, it is possible that tengu eggs can even tend on the larger side, just slightly smaller than a full formed human baby, because eggs have a fixed capacity once the shell is formed and the above numbers are quite small. (that being said, a tengu hatchling being very, very small and highly vulnerable would also in a way explain why tengu have both eggs and the capacity to produce milk, which so fucking interestingly makes them physiologically and behaviorally more closely related to monotremes than birds). the egg itself is blue-green in color, an almost coppery shade. in addition, i do think tengu can have clutches of eggs, maybe 2 at a time, with a maximum of 3, although 1 is already a lot of work hskdfhk

gestation and incubation -> the gestational period in birds is a lot shorter than i ever expected before going down this rabbit hole. after fertilisation occurs, an egg can develop in roughly 24-48 hours or 1-2 days in most species, and are laid immediately after being fully formed. however, in monotremes, the gestation period is (technically) 11-12 days. i'd settle on a number somewhere in the middle, maybe 5-6 days, for no other reason than I Think It Would Be Interesting. when it comes to incubation though, monotremes and crows specifically have an almost similar duration with 10-11 days for monotremes and 18 days for crows. this would have to be stretched out a lottttt more for tengu given the need for the development of more highly complex structures like hands and feet, as well as a lot of other organs that is responsible for the human gestation period being 9 months long. i'd say the tengu incubation period is going to be roughly the same because of that.

milk production -> the fact that female tengu have breasts imply milk production. as a general rule birds don't do this ALTHOUGH some birds like pigeons and flamingos do produce 'crop milk' which is similar to regular milk but apparently tastes ass and also has a different composition to mammal milk. in any case, since this is not crow behavior or physiology i'll default to humans instead. human babies (in an ideal scenario) are breastfeed for about 12 months, with the first 6th months being exclusively breastfed and the remainder 6 months a mix between breastfeeding and soft foods. tengu could follow the same duration (especially in the unique case of a possible human/tengu hybrid child) or have a far shorter overall breastfeeding duration, given that the hatchling does get somewhat juiced up by the yolk while they develop in the egg.

parental care -> based on everything in the previous paragraph, parental care will be a must for tengu, especially during incubation and as a new hatchling. egg care goes into behavioral and maybe even cultural territory, so i'll try to keep it brief because i'm mainly focused on biology/physiology here. the egg itself is likely placed in the safest area of the home, with maybe some yokai enchantments (or human technology) to keep it at a steady temperature. parents take turns watching over the egg, and maybe 'egg slings' are developed that allow a parent to bring their egg around with them for comfort and security. hatch day would be the equivalent to a birthday. now onto the fun part: hatchlings. hatchlings would require immense parental care given their exceedingly small size, which makes them a lot more fragile than human babies. the first month would be the most critical, but afterwards i'd say that tengu hatchling development outpaces human baby development. after that critical month feathering of the hatchling's wings start to occur, and they'd be fully feathered by around a year old. throughout this time hatchlings would have pretty much the same needs as a human baby, so not much difference in parental care during this time.

[thewailingbells]

Can I request Bubba Sawyer not really understanding what his female S/O period is. All he knows is that he saw blood on the sheets and thinks there's an emergency. Maybe he gets very protective when Y/N explains the whole thing.

A Bit of Blood

AN: Sorry this took so long! I had a very busy month but everything has finally started to calm down.

Warnings: This entire fic is about periods, so if that grosses you out, don’t read!

The sun is brightly shown through the thin curtains, gently nudging you awake. The persistent morning light became too much to bear. You let out an annoyed groan and rolled over on your side. You sought refuge from the persistent morning sun in your lover’s chest. Today was a rare day in the Sawyer household; it was quiet and calm. From the limited amount of time you had spent with the family, you concluded that they knew very little about those two concepts.

Nubbins was out in town taking photographs for his collection, Drayton was at the gas station working hard to get everything set up for the week, and Chop-Top was still in Vietnam.

That left only you and Bubba at home. He slept soundly in bed beside you. Despite his imposing size, there was a gentle calmness about him as he slept. You couldn't help but admire your big, gentle, manly lover, asleep and vulnerable, whose features softened in repose rather than the stern, concerned look he usually expresses.

Bubba’s eyes fluttered open. A smile appeared on his face when he realized you were right in front of him. He let out a squeal of happiness and pulled you into his chest. You giggled and hugged him back, enjoying his tight embrace. Despite the lovely moment you were having, Bubba was a morning person. Once he woke up, he was filled with energy. Bubba said something you couldn’t quite understand before wiggling out of your grasp. You sighed and rolled over to lay on your stomach.

Bubba began to follow his usual routine. Pull the blankets down, get out of bed, pull the blankets back up to cover you, and give you a kiss. Except this time, he let out an animalistic squeal. You quickly shot up in bed and turned to face him.

“Bubba! What’s wrong? What happened.”

He continued to make concerned noises. Bubba pointed to the bed. You jumped out of the bed to see what was wrong with it. Your heart sank. There was blood. Bubba began to cry. He gently patted the bottom of your butt, and you could only assume there was a blood mark there too.

You looked at him with loving eyes. You grabbed his rough hands with your soft ones. “Bubba, I’ll be okay. Don’t worry.”

He shook his head. You obviously weren’t okay! You are bleeding! That means you are hurt! Bubba started sobbing. “I’m sorry I hurt you I didn’t mean it I want to help you but I don’t know how to do that and I don’t want you to die so please don’t die,” he said. While the words weren’t exactly spoken in proper English, you were able to get the gist of what he was trying to say.

You squeezed his hands. “Listen to me. I am not going to die. This is normal for me. I need you to calm down. Can you do that for me?"

He nodded. You smiled at him and sat down on the bloodstained bed. If you bleed more, it doesn’t matter; the sheets are already ruined. Bubba stayed standing up. He was too concerned to sit.

You used the most gentle tone you could. “Bubba. As you know, I am a woman. That means I have a different body than you. You’ve seen me naked many times. Whether we were showering together, having sex, or you just walked in on me changing, remember how I told you not to cum inside me?"

He nodded. Of course he remembered, but that didn’t explain why you were bleeding! There is no time to waste! If he waits too long to tend to the wound, you could bleed out. Despite his inner thoughts, he stayed put and listened. Bubba played with his bracelet to calm himself.

“There was a reason why I told you that. Bubba. If you cum inside me, I have a baby. Once a month, when I don’t have a baby, I bleed out of my vagina.”

Before you can continue, Bubba is pulling down his pants. You quickly stopped him. “Bubba! That doesn’t mean I want a baby! We’re too young for that.”

He whines. “The baby will stop the bleeding you need a baby now!”

You shake your head. “It doesn’t work like that. Not exactly, at least. The bleeding does hurt, but I would rather bleed than have a baby. Usually I just have cramps, headaches, dizziness, fatigue, mood swings, and a few other things.”

Bubba started crying again. You have to go through all of that? Once a month? He loves you! He doesn’t want you to be in pain. Bubba pats your head gently.

You were about to say something but were interrupted by a sharp pain in your lower abdomen. You quickly hunched over and grabbed your stomach.

You felt a pair of strong arms pick you up and place you on the bed. “Bubba. I’m fine, real-“

“Nu uh,” Bubba said. You tried to sit up, but he pushed you down onto your back.

He grabbed the waistband of your pajama pants and pulled them off you. He took your top off as well. Bubba looked into your eyes for a brief moment before gently taking off your underwear.

You groaned. “Sweetie, what are you doing? I’m going to bleed on the sheets more than I already have. It’s gonna make a mess.”

Bubba climbed into bed next to you. He made shushing sounds to shut you up. His rough, calloused hand began to gently rub your uterus. He continued to make sad sounds, like those of an injured puppy.

You felt disgusting. Like an animal free bleeding all over the place you slept.

“Bubba, isn’t this gross to you?”

He shook his head. Figures: After chopping up animals and people, blood must start to mean nothing to you.

“I’m going to need feminine products, Bubba. I can’t spend a whole week in bed because I’m bleeding.”

Your love whined. There was something about this that he liked. It was domestic, in an odd sense. You were sprawled out in the bed naked. Yet there were no feelings of sexual desire. Only a desire to nurture.

“Rest,” Bubba said. “I will take care of you. We can get you everything you want later. I love you so much please feel better.”

“Thank you,” you said weakly. This was certainly something you thought you would never do. To anyone else, their girlfriend bleeding all over their bed would make them want to vomit. Not for Bubba though, he loved everything about you, and he would be with you through everything. Everything.

[faededaway]

Lucifer x reader

[Lucifer from Obey Me, Professor x student. University/college setting. No gender mentioned but reader has a vagina. nsfw]

Some thing about today is very off. You don't remember leaving your bed. It is as if you were asleep one second and the very next second, you're in class. You know you aren't dreaming. You have all your things: you bag, your books, your phone, your keys.

Yet,

You sit away from your usual seat. It is professor Lucifer's class. Usually you sit around the middle but today you take a seat right at the very back, devoid of people. Lucifer's the kind of teacher who makes everyone fill the seats up front.

You hope he makes an exception today, an exception for you.

You're just relaxing into your seat when the class quietens. He's here.

His leather shoes' rhythmic clicks against the floor set your heart ablaze. A strange sense of dejavu comes over you.

It is as if you've heard him and seen him in this same attire before: black slacks, black shirt with a tailored red suit vest. His usually gloved hands (claims he has dust allergy) are bare and the way he holds his flask, reminds you of his hands around something else.

My neck

Fuck

It comes back to you now. You had a dream, quite explicit dream of your modern language professor last night. It was so detailed that you'd woken up drenched in sweat (and other things) and tried to busy yourself with your day to forget what happened.

In doing so you'd forgotten that the first class you'd have, is his. He, who was in your dreams fucking you, albeit fucking into you would be more accurate, is here in front of you, somehow wearing the same outfit he was in your dream.

You take a sip from your water bottle and take some calming breaths. Dreams. Happens to everyone. It'll be fine. I just need to focus.

You try to focus on the lesson. Lucifer keeps his things on the desk and stands at the podium to deliver his lecture. He takes off his glasses and begins reading from the textbook. “Chapter 13 of the text book, discussion on loan words and borrowed words. We did an introduction on this last class. I hope you did your- part your legs, darling. Your want this.”

Oh hells bells. Your brain is picking and choosing words, reminding you of your dream.

He says, “listen”. And your brain replays: listen to the sound your pus-

This goes on for a while. It began with words but after twenty minutes of looking at Lucifer, your brain brings forth images of what you saw.

You are hot. Your brain is so fuzzy, the white noise of horniness drowning out the class lecture. You know he'd know if didn't pay attention.

So you think of ways to make it go away. You pat down your pockets for a miracle and feel a candy in your pocket.

Sour candy. Yeah that should do something.

You pop it in your mouth when, “I know it's early so I'll allow some snacks in class. But next time, please remember to close your mouth around m-”

With choked gasps, you swallow the candy whole. You didn't expect him to notice. You're sure he did not say anything remotely close to what you heard.

This is getting worse.

You apologize to him before trying to read your notes to help you focus. Not that you wrote anything. Just many crossed out Ls litter the page with a date on the top corner.

Maybe I need to take care of it. I'll just excuse myself and come ba-

“This part of the lecture is extremely important. I do not recommend missing it because I will not go over it again. Whatever business you have should be able to wait ten more minutes.”

You sit back down and groan. Twice now you've caught his attention.

I heard him fine this time. Wow. Maybe it's-

“Ten more minutes, darling. Hold on till then and I promise-”, maybe you shouldn't have thought that. An image of him holding a vibrator where you wanted him in popped in your head. You were restrained with your legs spread apart. He was teasing you with a toy and pleasing himself with his other hand.

Fuc- I can't. I need to, I need to stop. I'll be quick and discreet and quiet and -

You look through your things to find something you can use to help you. Using your hands isn't an option because there is the chance that someone would interact with you or try to touch you and you'd have cum on your hands. A lip balm is too small, a pen is too thin. A marker? It seemed smooth enough.

You pretend to look through your pen case and accidentally drop the marker on your lap. You even make a faux attempt to pick it up and put it back.

Slowly, under the discretion of tiered seats that cover your lower half from Lucifer's eyes, you part your legs and put the marker in your pants. The moment it touches your clit, you can't help but jump. You look up to Lucifer to see if he noticed, thankfully he is busy looking at his teaching material.

You take this time to shift around to get the marker where you need it.

You look up at him again before putting it inside you. Images of him thrusting his hips into you fill your mind and you can't help but grind your hips too. The seated position definitely helps add some pressure and tightness to your pussy but the marker can't compare to how Lucifer filled you in your dreams. So you take the lip balm and put that in too.

You eyes never leave Lucifer. Your ears pick up on his every word.

“Just like we did last- just like this darling.” You're in your room, on your bed. Lucifer is on top of you. His hands roam your body while his legs pin you down.

“You have to put in more effort for- you have to try harder than that”. You try to take off his clothing but he tuts at you. Your clothes come off but his don't.

“This page- like this? Do you like this? When I touch you hear? Hm?” His hands go over your chest while he kisses your neck.

“If you have- if you want something, you have to ask, darling. Ask me. Beg for me. Hm? Let me hear you beg.” His hand ghosts above your pussy while he unzips himself with his other hand. He doesn't touch you where you want him most before your words turn to a blabbering mess.

“Take your- take your time darling. Feel me in you. Feel me in you” He thrusts in you all at once. Your holes was more than prepped for him. You hold him in you, squeezing around him. Your hands go around his arms and you legs to around his waist.

“Next, we are going to- going to cum in you. Going to own you. Say you want it” His thrusts get harder and faster. You're definitely crying now. But you say you want him. Of course you do. You want him and you want whatever he wants. He moans at your words before holding your legs apart and pulling out completely.

“If you come- are you coming? Hm? Is my darling coming? Of course your are coming. Come for me.” He rubs your clit to bring you closer before thrusting into you again and coming inside of you. His sinful moans bring you to your orgasm and you-

I'm coming!

“Well, that's good to hear,” you find yourself back in class. Your cheeks burn at the realization that you said the last thing out loud. You wonder if you said anything before that. To calm yourself, you take a few sips from your water bottle.

“See you again on Monday”, that brings the class to an end and students start to leave the room.

The post orgasm clarity hits you like a brick. Guilt and shame hold you to your seat. You gather your things slowly. You're not sure how you'll face Lucifer on the way out so you wait for him to leave. But he stays at his seat with his eyes watching you.

“Good to see I didn't have to ask you to stay behind. You did it yourself. Now, come up front.” He crosses his arms and leans into his chair.

His words shake you. You weren't sure if you would be able to walk away like you didn't just jerk off to heavy smut but now you know your legs will give in from fear.

You take the stairs slowly, keeping a hand on the adjacent bench at all times. His eyes never leave you but he does sigh when he sees your predicament. When you walk down to the bottom, he motions to his desk.

“What did we talk about I'm class today?”

You blink at him before recalling some bits and pieces, “the umm, bor-borrowed words an-”

“No. That was covered in the first hour. What was covered in the last hour?”, he cuts you off harshly.

You fidget with your bag and think of what could have been covered. You know the material well. So maybe it's-

“Hand them over”, he holds out his palm towards you.

“S-sorry?”, you stare at his hand quizzically.

“The thing that held your interest longer than the class did. Hand it over to me,” he slams his other hand on his desk, “now!”

You feel the marker in your pussy fall further out as his words make your legs shake. “I- I can't.”

How could you possibly do that? It's not like you could just put your hands in and take them out for him.

“Oh? Well, show me. Show me what you were doing. If you had the guts to do it at the far end where you thought I wouldn't notice. Let's see how far you go now”, he leaps up from his seat and grasps your arm.

He drags you towards the nearest bench and demands again, “show me.”

You stared at him blankly and try to think of ways to get out of this situation. “Sir, I'm sorry. I know I was wrong and-”

He leans over to you and shushes you.

“I said, show me. If you are sorry, show me. Show me.”

You debate on whether it'd be easier to tell him what you did instead of showing him. But the moment you open your mouth he shushes you again, “not a word!”

So you look down at the desk and do as he said. You spread your legs and bring your hand to your crotch. Soft sounds of your juices and the marker rubbing against the lip balm are audible in the silence.

“Continue.”

You move like you did a while ago. Grinding your hips and slowly moving the marker in and out if your hole. But the shame of being caught stops you from enjoying it like before.

You hear him tut again before he slides into the seat next to you. You look at him to ask him what's wrong when he lifts you up and puts you on the desk. You gasp as you feel the marker thrust in you.

“Take these off.” He points to your trousers before lifting your hips to help you.

Once the trousers come off, he holds your lips apart and demands, “push them out”.

You do as he says. Once they're out, he brings them to your lips. You know what he wants from you so you lick yourself off of the items as he holds them.

Once they're clean, he pockets them, “I am confiscating them.

“I think I couldn't find my gloves today for this very reason.” He says, before thrusting his fingers into your wet pussy.

You gasp and curl into him as his unexpected intrusion makes you whine in pleasure.

“Hm? Tell me, tell me exactly what you thought of when you desperately stuffed your hole with whatever you could find on hand,” he coos in your ear as he fingers you.

When you don't respond to him, he pulls out and holds your chin. “Tell. Me.”

You hold his stare before replying with only one word, “you”.

A sinister smile fills his face before he chuckles, “of course. Did it involve something like this or something more?”

You look away from him before mumbling a reply, “more”.

“As your professor, I've already crossed the line. But so have you. If you show me exactly what you were doing, I will let you go,” he moves away from you and leans on his desk. All the while, his grin doesn't leave his face.

He wants to see me. Right. Yeah. Okay.

So you turn to face him. You spread your legs as far as you can and show him your dripping pussy. With some boldness in your voice you say, “I had a dream about you. You fucked me so well that I couldn't not touch myself when I saw you.”

“Oh? Is that what happened?,” Lucifer unbuttons his vest and tie. He runs a hand through his hair before folding his sleeves upto his elbows.

You watch him and rub your clit, “yeah. When you were delivering the lecture, I couldn't hear anything. You say something and my brain would hear something else.”

“Oh, you poor thing,” he teases mockingly. He watches the way you move your fingers, “tell me what I said.”

You finger yourself faster when you think about all the things he said and all the things running through your head. His taunts, his soft moans, his encouraging words.

The one that you wanted him to say again was, “you said you'd cum in me. Said you'd make me yours and mark me and-”, your words drift off as you near your orgasm again.

Watching him watch you is doing something to you. It's humiliating. Makes your cheeks burn but it is enticing.

“Awe, are you coming? Hm? Is my darling coming? Of course you are coming. Come for me”, hearing him say the exact words from your dream makes you cum on command. Slick and juices pools on the desk under you. You lay back on it from exhaustion. The second time you came, and both the times you came to the same words.

You hear clacking of his shoes again. He helps you up and dresses you after cleaning your pussy and hands with a wet wipe. “You have done a great job listening to me. Hope you've learned your lesson. Next time you have dreams about me, speak to me directly”.

You don't know how your day passes. You remember asking Lucifer about the mess you made. He said he'd take care of it so you left it to him. The day drones on like the morning didn't happen. You even go home the same way. Only when it's evening do you get a sign of the mornings proceedings.

A mail from Lucifer that reads,

From: Professor Lucifer

To: Y/N

Date: x/x/9001

Subject: Performance feedback

Your recent conduct has been subpar. I believe, an extra class will help correct that. Come see me tomorrow at 10:00 AM. No need to bring any stationeries or books. I will provide.

With regards,

Professor Lucifer,

Senior Lecturer at RAD

[kcyars99]

This is Imane Khelif. She is a boxer from Algeria. 🇩🇿

You're probably going to be hearing a lot about her from your bigoted uncle this weekend, especially now that everyone's least-favorite bigoted aunt, J.K. Rowling, has offered her incredibly worthless opinion on today's fight between two cis (aka BiOLoGiCaL for y'all that need that) women.

Things worth noting: 🇮🇹 The boxer who quit today's fight--Angela Carini of Italy--said her quitting wasn't political and that she was not passing judgment on Khelif's eligibility. She said the shot to her nose did something different to her than most hits she's ever taken.

🇹🇼 Last year, Imane (along with Taiwan's Lin Yu-ting) faced a ruling by the International Boxing Association that they--despite being cis or 'BioLoGiCaL🥴' women--had "advantages" of a genetic nature, leading to a decision not to let them fight.

🇺🇸 U.S. swimmer Michael Phelps, celebrated as the greatest swimmer of all time, has a genetic condition where his body produces half of the lactic acid of a normal cis man. For this biological quirk (along with his hyper-mobility) he is lauded.

🇩🇿 Algerian sports officials and other Algerian athletes have spoken in Imane's defense, including national team soccer player ​​Ismaël Bennacer who said Khelif is "suffering a wave of unjustified hatred."

🥇 The Olympics do not recognize IBA or its rulings and carried out their own set of testing standards which every athlete you see competing had to pass.

🇯🇵 Imane also fought at the Tokyo Olympics in 2021, where she was beaten in the quarterfinals by Irish boxer Kellie Harrington--another 'BioLoGiCaL🥴' woman.

🥊 For the weirdos who obsess over genitals, this person was born with a vagina. Meaning that by y'all's weird rules where you want to check in kids' pants before they compete, Imane would be deemed "girl athlete."

🏊 Meanwhile, Katie Ledecky today became the most decorated women's swimmer ever by pulling in a silver medal, after yesterday continuing her long streak of dominating everyone in the world in the 1500, where she holds the top TWENTY best times. Ever. And people on the internet spent the day calling her a man.

🧨 This should be a nonissue, but JOANNE and Elon and your bigoted uncle are latching onto it because they want to continue to push the deadly narrative against trans folks via any possible means. Even in a case where the person they're demonizing isn't trans in the first damn place. If she as a cis woman has more testosterone than other cis women athletes, well, that's not all that uncommon. Y'all wanna tell women with PCOS that they're not really women?

🩺 I don't know how many times I've shared that Open Ocean Exploration thread, by a literal biologist, explaining how common it is that people have sex variations that they don't even know about. I'll share it again since it's just about the most concise look at X/Y diversity I've ever seen. It's really wild to watch folks who copied off of my in high school biology act like they know more than actual scientists and doctors every single time I post it. --Find that post here:

#ParisOlympics2024

#OlympiansMadeHere

#olympicsboxing

(This originally called Joanne a bigoted uncle while still using her correct pronouns which I think conveys that she's basically the living embodiment of everyone's metaphorical racist uncle, gender be damned, but a few people felt it was misgendering her which was very much not the point so I changed it just to stop infighting since there's already plenty enough fighting with actual bigots to be doing.)

[justforbooks]

Philip Roth by Blake Bailey

An impressive, complex biography of the celebrated American writer, packed with anecdotes and jokes, inevitably details his shocking attitude towards women

“Idon’t want you to rehabilitate me,” Philip Roth instructed Blake Bailey. “Just make me interesting.” The headline story can’t fail to be interesting: lower-middle-class grandson of immigrants writes scandalous bestseller about masturbation, is vilified as a self-hating Jew, has two disastrous marriages and many lovers, accumulates a stupendously diverse body of work (comic, surreal, metafictional, naturalistic), comes to be seen as the greatest English-language novelist of his day yet never, to his chagrin, wins the Nobel. But Roth wanted nuances not headlines, suggesting that Bailey call his biography “The Terrible Ambiguity of the ‘I’”. Luckily, that isn’t the title. But ambiguity is central to the story, particularly in relation to Roth’s treatment of women, in life and in fiction, which is where the issue of rehabilitation arises and, as with his peers (Saul Bellow, John Updike and Norman Mailer), can’t really be avoided, least of all now.

“Always it came back to the women,” Bailey writes, the first of them Roth’s mother Bess, who, if not as suffocating as Alex Portnoy’s mother, was so adoring that no subsequent woman in his life could match up. While sharing Bess’s devotion to Philip and his brother Sandy, her husband Herman left a mark in other ways, not least through his work ethic (12-hour days, six days a week). “He who is loved by his parents is a conquistador,” Roth liked to say. Despite the antisemitism of the period, he remembered his childhood as a haven. Newark to him was like Dublin to Joyce: a place he escaped but never left.

At college he discovered the fun of writing satire and, dropping plans to become a “lawyer for the underdog”, poured his energy into short stories. “Bibliography by day, women by night” was the idea, but at 23 he met Maggie Martinson, the first of his two marital “catastrophes”. A “hard-up loser four years my senior”, whose two kids lived with her ex-husband, Martinson was worldlier and more turbulent than any previous girlfriend. But that was the point: he saw her as a test of his maturity. By the time his first book, Goodbye, Columbus, made him famous, he’d had enough. “It isn’t fair,” Maggie said, rightly suspecting that he was sleeping with other women, “You have everything and I have nothing, and now you think you can dump me!” In a ploy to hang on to him, she persuaded a pregnant woman to urinate in a jar as part of “a scientific experiment”, used the positive result to trick Roth into thinking that she was carrying his child, then agreed to have an abortion if he promised to marry her – which he duly did.

It was three years before he discovered the truth and, furious at being conned so easily, began divorce proceedings. Arguments about alimony were still going on when Maggie was killed in a car crash. His income that year was around $800,000 (the equivalent of $6m today) and her death meant he didn’t have to split it. Though relieved that the “goyish chaos” she’d wreaked was behind him, he continued to feel vindictive towards Maggie, and took his revenge in fiction, dubbing her the Monkey because of her stubby legs and having his alter ego Zuckerman express repugnance at her “withered and discoloured” vagina. Bailey’s version of events leans on Roth’s but he tempers it with extracts from Maggie’s diary, the most plaintive of them when she realises “Philip doesn’t care for me – he’s sorry for me”.

Roth’s second catastrophe, with Claire Bloom, wasn’t so much the failure of their marriage but how she wrote about it in her memoir Leaving a Doll’s House. In the flush of first love he described her as “a great emotional soul-mate” who’d rescued him from a period of excruciating pain (a back problem which plagued him throughout his life). The domestic harmony didn’t last. He disliked Bloom’s daughter Anna living with them in London. And Bloom felt isolated at Roth’s 40-acre farmhouse in rural Connecticut, which he’d bought for $110,000 when even the paperback rights to one of his worst novels earned him four times as much (it became his own Yaddo, a place to retreat and write, undisturbed – leaving Bloom at a loose end). Among many points of contention was the pass Roth made at Anna’s friend Felicity, which outraged all three women but didn’t merit much of an apology from Roth (“What’s the point of having a pretty girl in the house if you don’t fuck her”).

Most of Roth’s other relationships were with younger women: “I was forty and she was nineteen. Perfect,” he said of one, though his ideal age gap grew as he got older (“A mature woman wouldn’t take your shit,” his analyst told him). He had a theory that sexual interest wears off after two years, but his 18-year affair with “Inge”, the model for Drenka in Sabbath’s Theater, disproved it. Among those he flirted with or knew (however briefly) as friends were Jackie Kennedy, Mia Farrow, Ava Gardner and Barbra Streisand. Other lovers here go unnamed or are given pseudonyms, though not the Playboy pin-up Alice Denham (Miss July, 1956), who called him, approvingly, “a sex friend”, and not Ann Mudge, who was dropped because her “meek gentility had begun to bore him” (she subsequently attempted suicide).

Bailey doesn’t deny Roth’s “breathtaking tastelessness towards women”. And there were always goatish buddies happy to normalise the misogyny, from disgruntled divorcees whining that their wives had fleeced them, through the teaching colleague who “pimped” for him, to the artist RB Kitaj who would fax him “dashed-off sketches of the decorous Anita Brookner, say, giving blow jobs”.

If Roth admirers will find this hard to take, detractors can’t ignore how connubial and generous he could be; how ex-lovers spoke warmly of him and visited his bedside when he was dying; and how female writers (including Zadie Smith, Nicole Krauss and Mary Karr) are among his biggest fans. “I don’t like the way he writes about women,” Nell Freudenberger said in a 2012 poll that voted him America’s greatest living novelist, “and I don’t like the way I sound complaining about it.” When the complaints began 40 years ago, Roth raged against them (“Hysterical fear of the dick. Feminism as the new righteousness”) then took them on board, using fiction to dramatise rather than repudiate.

“To let the repellent in” was a manifesto of his. And if honesty about male sexual desire got him into trouble, he accepted it as a price worth paying. Portnoy’s Complaint began the process and Sabbath’s Theater rounded it off. In later novels – American Pastoral, The Plot Against America and his last, Nemesis, a plague novella – the libido plays less of a part and they’re arguably the better for it. Where the young Roth determinedly killed off the Nice Jewish Boy he’d been brought up as, the ageing Roth was nostalgic for his childhood and adolescence.

Bailey’s account of the last years is touching. Having announced his retirement from writing, Roth talked of “rambling happily into oblivion”, his battles behind him. New awards came. Old friendships were revived. Young women still appeared on his arm but nothing happened in bed beyond cuddles. Asked for his thoughts on the Nobel prize for literature going to Bob Dylan rather than to him, he joked: “It’s OK, but next year I hope Peter, Paul and Mary get it.” When Lisa Halliday’s portrait of him as the elderly Ezra Blazer appeared in her novel Asymmetry shortly before his death, he approved.

He would approve of this biography, too, not because it’s partial but because Bailey’s industriousness is on a par with his own. With a “mile of files” and boxes to work through, it’s a miracle that he has published so lucid a book just three years after Roth’s death – and one so packed with good anecdotes and jokes, including one at his own expense when Roth took a toilet break during their interviews (“I sat on his studio couch, listening to our greatest living novelist empty his bladder, and reflected that this was about as good as it gets for an American literary biographer”). Among the documents he quotes from is “Notes for My Biographer”, a 295-page rejoinder to Bloom that Roth planned to publish till friends and lawyers talked him out of it. Bailey relies on this more than he should, unfairly dismissing her memoir as “scurrilous”. But given how determined Roth was to control his posthumous reputation, after falling out with his first official biographer, Ross Miller (nephew of Arthur), it’s an achievement for Bailey to have gained as much distance as he has.

The frequency with which Roth fell out with people he loved (friends, editors, agents, fellow authors) is just one of the many ambiguities here. The man who liked to quote Flaubert’s dictum “Be orderly and regular in your life like a bourgeois” was drawn to the manic and bacchanalian; published 31 books but found writing novels “a ghastly protracted slog”; studiously avoided having children but doted on other people’s; spoke only English but was passionate on behalf of non-English writers, especially novelists from eastern Europe. Above all there was his attitude to women, which a hagiographer would try to excuse as typical of the era and an enemy would liken to Harvey Weinstein’s, but was too uniquely Rothian to be either. “Why do you want to characterise me … as some sort of heartless rapist manqué?” the Roth character Tarnopol scolds his psychiatrist Dr Spielvogel in My Life As a Man. Some critics will use this biography to do just that. But the story is more complex – and a lot more interesting.

Daily inspiration. Discover more photos at Just for Books…?

[rockerfemme]

trigger warning for misogyny and FGM

the venn diagram of feminists and people who are into heavy body modification is literally just me so I am 100% sure no1curr BUT I have gotta talk about misogyny in the mod community. specifically from the mod practitioners, who are mostly male. any mod enthusiast who knows anything knows that tongue splitting and similar mods are illegal in the UK and Australia because of a now infamous practitioner (butcher) Brendan Russell aka "B-Slice" botching multiple clients' implants and causing the death of one client. I've seen the case referenced multiple times, but it was only when I looked it up for details that I realized that all the botched clients were female, that set my alarm bells off and I looked more into the cases.

The client he killed, died of an infection in a subdermal implant he gave her and that's the victim who gets referenced the most but upon doing my own research, prior to that, he was convicted on an FGM charge when he botched a labiaplasty on a different woman and burned part of her vagina off. X X

Next I read about another practitioner, this one is widely considered reputable and is still in business today. Whilst recommending him to someone, a commenter informs everyone that he "cut off my friend's huge labia." Disgusting. The fact that he performs that type of procedure tells you everything about how he views women. X

Next I read a review of a documentary about another highly respected practitioner, a pioneer in the field. Reportedly it's revealed that "many of his personal motivations are, indeed, sexual" and describes a scene in which he pressures his long-term girlfriend into having an open relationship (one sided, of course.) Vile. And we clients meant to trust him to perform delicate procedures on us. X

I’m also aware of the “Brutal Blackout” project, a tattoo project in which the “artists” scribble black ink over large portions of the client’s body, while running the tattoo machine at a high voltage to intentionally cause as much pain as possible to the client. Clients aren’t allowed to tell the tattooists when to stop. There’s a mini documentary on YouTube and it’s very disturbing, it’s clear that one of the two “artists” is a deeply sadistic man who is overjoyed that he is paid to harm people. X

This all isn't really something that can be discussed with regular people because they laugh at modified people and call us stupid for even wanting this type of body art (tongue bifurcation, scarification, subdermal implants, coinslots, cartilage punch/removal, elf ears, etc). Neither do I feel that such a discussion would be received well in the mod community, because it is (unsurprisingly) populated by mega liberals.

But for women who want to adorn themselves in this way, it's important to know that some of these so-called "artists" are, in reality, disgusting sex perverts and misogynists. Go to female mod artists whenever possible and dig deep through multiple social media sits for information on any practitioner you're considering.